


Ace of Spades

by betts



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bullying, Child Neglect, Drug Use, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Han & Leia's A+ Parenting, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Jealousy, Kid Fic, Love Triangles, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Semi-Public Sex, Slow Burn, Soft Kylux, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-07-18 11:26:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 28
Words: 62,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7313356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/betts/pseuds/betts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Sometimes,” Ben says, “it feels like everything’s connected. Like with strings. And if I could just see the strings, I could pull them. I could make things do what I wanted.”</p><p>“Are people connected too?” Hux asks.</p><p>“Uh huh. But some strings between people are shorter than others. Like ours. I bet ours is the shortest string you can have.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hux's name in this is Hux O'Connell. The story begins in the late 80s.

_More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the world._

—Edna St. Vincent Millay, "Dirge Without Music"

♠

* * *

**PART ONE**

The long-haired boy. The boy with the big nose and big ears but nobody teases him (Hux gets teased for his freckles, mostly). The boy who talks funny (Hux also talks funny; he gets teased for that too). The boy who knows the alphabet already, can count all the way to fifty. The boy whose grandma baked cupcakes for his birthday and shared them with the class. The boy whose dad came for Show & Tell and brought a whole big rig. The boy Hux watches, and who sometimes catches him looking. _Ben._

Hux hates him.

Hux’s mom works until after dark most days. He doesn’t remember his dad except his voice when he yelled at his mom right before he left. Hux was just a baby but he remembers. There’s nobody to pick him up after school so he has to walk home and his mom told him not to talk to anybody while he’s walking, but today somebody behind him asks, “What kinda name is Hux?”

Hux ducks his head and walks faster.

“My middle name is Bail,” the boy continues. Hux knows who it is but he doesn’t like to break rules. He purses his lips and keeps his eyes two sidewalk blocks ahead of him. “Bail’s a weird name too, I think.”

The boy catches up with him and even though he’s taller he changes his steps so they match. He keeps talking: “I can spell it, even. I can’t spell Benjamin, but that’s my name. My full name, I mean. I hate it and as soon as I get old enough I’m gonna change it. Do you hate your name?”

Hux shakes his head.

“That’s good. Hey, I know my phone number too. Do you know your phone number?”

Hux shakes his head again. There’s a phone in his kitchen he can reach if he climbs on the counter, but the only numbers he knows are 911 and his mom’s work. He wants to say as much but he doesn’t. Instead he starts nearly running to get away. They reach the end of the street and he forgets to look both ways before he crosses. He steps onto the road and—

“Hux!” An arm yanks him back by the collar and a car whizzes by so close Hux can feel the breeze it makes as it passes. He tumbles back onto the sidewalk and lands on his palms. When he brings them up to look, little pebbles are stuck in his skin where pieces have been scraped away and he’s bleeding.

He can feel his face get hot and his throat aches when he swallows and tears start to fall before he notices. The bleeding doesn’t even hurt that bad but he can’t help it.

“Wow that was close,” Ben says, helping him up. “You gotta be more careful. Hey, are you okay? Hux?”

This time Hux looks both ways before he runs across the street.

“Okay, I gotta turn here anyway!” Ben shouts from the other side. “But I’ll see you tomorrow!”

Hux makes sure Ben can’t see him when he stops holding it in and cries. He wipes his tears and snot with the back of his hand. When he gets home, he runs his palms under cold water but he can’t figure out how to put band-aids on by himself, so he puts a sweater on instead and pulls the sleeves up to his fingers, that way the germs can’t get in.

He makes a peanut butter sandwich and turns on the TV.

♠

“Do you not like talking?” Ben asks. He’d been waiting for Hux outside of school today. Hux hurries forward.

“It’s okay if you don’t,” Ben adds, keeping up. “My baby sister doesn’t talk either. She’s only four but Grandma Padme keeps telling me she doesn’t talk because I keep doing everything for her and I need to stop. Hey are you feeling better? You don’t have to answer.”

Hux doesn’t.

“When Rey was a baby she cried all the time but she stopped crying when I talked to her and now everybody tells me I talk too much but if it makes Rey stop crying I don’t care. Hey do you want to come over sometime and play with me and Poe? He’s still in preschool so you probably don’t know him but he’s real good at lots of stuff already, I mean not as good as me but close. What’s your favorite fruit? I like grapes.”

Ben talks all the way to the end of the road again. Hux waits this time for the cars to pass.

“Okay,” Ben says, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He turns the opposite direction toward his house. Hux darts across the street.

♠

Hux almost asks his mom if he can talk to Ben on his way home from school every day but last time he asked for something (a bike for his birthday) she cried, so he doesn’t ask for things anymore.

He would be allowed to talk to Ben at recess but Hux likes to spend it in his hiding spot above the broken slide where nobody can see him. He can see everybody else though. He likes to watch Ben play tether ball and foursquare with the other boys. By the time the teacher blows the whistle, Ben’s cheeks are always pink and he’s out of breath and smiling. He’s always laughing and he answers questions in class and gets good grades and Hux still thinks he hates him but he doesn’t know why anymore.

♠

The leaves fall. Hux walks on them and they crunch under his feet. When Ben turns to go to his house every day—”Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow.”—Hux likes to glance back and watch him. He waves sometimes, even though he knows Ben can’t see him.

It gets so cold that snow starts to fall, and Ben doesn’t walk home from school anymore. Hux sees him in a car as it passes down the street, playing with a little girl in the back seat. He doesn’t have to bundle up as much as Hux does.

They have recess in the gym now. Hux finds a spot under the bleachers and watches Ben play basketball. Sometimes Ben glances around like he’s looking for something, then somebody calls his name and whatever he was looking for gets forgotten.

♠

The snow melts and Hux has to wear his coat to walk to school in the mornings but not when he goes home. Ben still gets a ride every day, and Hux doesn’t like to think about those weeks they walked together.

A group of older boys start following Hux. Second grade, he thinks. They mutter things like _ginger kid_ and _runt_ and then laugh. Hux ignores them. They turn at the same corner Ben used to, toward the nice houses. Hux is the only kid in his apartment complex that he knows of, which is why the crossing guards don’t go out this far. He once heard the phrase “section eight” but he doesn’t know where the other seven sections went.

The boys don’t turn today. They follow Hux across the street. Hux walks faster. They laugh. As he approaches his apartment complex, he hears the words _poor_ and _dump_ and then something about his mother, followed by a word he’s never heard before: _whore_. But it sounds mean so he starts to run.

One of the boys shouts something. They chase after him. His mom once told him dogs can smell fear. As long as you aren’t afraid, they won’t hurt you. But Hux doesn’t know how not to be afraid, and boys aren’t the same as dogs.

They’re taller than him, so they catch up two buildings before Hux can reach his front door. One of them catches him by the backpack and Hux stops short. He lowers his arms and the pack slides off his shoulders. Another pushes him down and he falls on his hands again, like the first day he walked with Ben. But Ben isn’t here to help him up or ask if he’s okay. The boys roll him over on his back and Hux covers his face with his arms. They hit him open-handed at first and it doesn’t hurt, but then they start kicking him and Hux curls into a ball. Hot tears fall down the bridge of his nose. The boys laugh and kick harder.

“Hey!” a voice shouts from far away. Then closer: “Lay off!” Footsteps run toward them.

One of the boys says, “What are you gonna—” He’s cut off by a choking sound and the kicking stops. Hux doesn’t lift his head, but he hears a scuffle. A boy falls beside him and Hux peers out of one eye to find him knocked on his back before getting back up and running away.

“That kid’s a freak!” another one shouts.

A third, from further away, “Watch your back, freak!”

Hux stays curled in a ball. He can’t pull in a full breath. The ground is cold and mud soaks through his jacket and jeans.

“Hux?” the boy asks. The long-haired boy. The boy with the big nose and big ears but nobody teases him—”Are you okay?” The boy who talks funny—”Can you get up?” The boy who knows the alphabet already—”They’re gone now.”—can count all the way to fifty. “I know you don’t like to talk but can you tell me if you’re okay?” The boy whose grandma baked cupcakes for his birthday—”I don’t know what to do.” The boy whose dad came for Show & Tell—”I’m gonna run home and get my dad.” The boy Hux watches—

Hux sits up, wipes his face with his sleeve. He looks up to see Ben staring down at him. “I’m okay,” he says.

Ben grins.

—and who sometimes catches him looking.

Hux doesn’t hate him anymore.


	2. Chapter 2

It takes a while, for Hux to learn what friendship is. Ben starts by finding Hux in his hiding place above the broken slide. Their knees bump when Ben settles in across from him in the little metal cubby. It's still chilly outside but the sun beating down on the metal heats the small space.

“You can play football with us you know,” Ben says.

“I don’t know how,” Hux replies.

“It’s easy, I’ll teach you.” Ben scoots forward goes down the slide. It stops halfway to the ground but he digs his heels in and jumps, lands flat on his feet. Normally Hux goes back down the ladder. Ben looks up at him, his hand covering his brow to shield his eyes from the sun. “It’s okay,” he says. “I won’t let you fall.”

So Hux follows. He hits the ground hard, gravel flying and almost losing his balance but Ben steadies him.

“C’mon,” Ben says, tugging him forward, and they run toward the field.

♠

The last day of school. Ben chatters all the way to the end of the road like it’s any other day. They get to the stop sign and he says, “I’ll see you—”

Hux waits.

“—around,” Ben concludes. He doesn’t say anything else and he doesn’t walk away, either, and Hux thinks it’s the longest time he’s ever heard Ben be quiet. He gives Hux a little wave and turns down his street.

Hux wipes away tears the rest of the way home, thankful his mom isn’t there to see him cry. Over winter break she made him stay with the old lady across the hall who spoke to Hux in Spanish and smelled funny and fell asleep in her chair watching TV. She died so Hux doesn’t know what’s supposed to happen now.

When his mom gets home she asks why his face is all red and he tells her he’ll miss school. The next morning she kisses him before she goes to work and says she’ll try to come home early so he’s not alone for so long. There’s peanut butter and bread for him, she says. She’ll take him to the library to pick out some new tapes. She’ll teach him how to read chapter books.

Hux doesn’t get out of bed.

His mom doesn’t get home early.

She asks him, later, if he’s sick. He shakes his head and rolls over to face the wall.

♠

The doorbell rings. Hux curls into a ball and ignores it, like he does when the phone rings. His mom told him never to answer the door or pick up the phone while she’s gone. The doorbell rings again. Hux tugs his blanket over his head and makes himself small.

The doorbell rings again. And again. Over and over. Longer and shorter. _Shave and a hair cut. Two bits._ It doesn’t stop.

Hux pushes the blanket off and gets out of bed. He drags a chair from the kitchen to the door, climbs on it and presses the speaker button. He tries to make his voice real deep: “Hello?”

A voice crackles through the static, “Hux?”

“Ben?”

“Yeah! I brought Poe—”

“Hiii!” Poe shouts.

“—do you want to come play with us? We’re gonna go throw rocks in the quarry.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t leave.”

“Can we come in then?”

Hux hesitates. “No. I’m not allowed to open the door for anybody.”

“Oh,” Ben says. He sounds sad, Hux thinks. “Okay.”

Hux keeps his thumb on the button for a long time, well past when they’ve probably walked away. His chin starts to tremble but he bites his lip to make it stop.

He lets go of the button, climbs off the chair and starts to scoot it toward the table.

The doorbell rings again. He drags the chair back so quickly he bruises his knee in an effort to climb back up. “Yeah?”

“I know my phone number!” Ben says.

“Okay.”

“Get a pencil and paper. You can write it down.”

“I’m not very good at numbers.”

“Well you gotta try.”

“Okay. Hold on.”

Hux climbs down and looks around. His mom keeps a pad of paper and a pen by the phone but Hux isn’t allowed to use pens so he gets a red crayon from beside his coloring book on the coffee table. He puts them on the ground and climbs back up on the chair, presses the button, and says, “You gotta give me one number at a time, okay.”

“Okay. The first one is eight.”

Hux knows that one. He climbs down and writes down the number eight. He climbs back up and says, “Ready.”

“The next one is nine.”

Nine is harder. Hux knows it’s a balloon with a stick but he doesn’t remember which way the balloon goes. He takes a guess. Climbs back up. Pushes the button. “Ready.”

“Zero.”

Over and over, until Hux has a bunch of numbers written down. When he climbs up after writing the last one, he says, “Now what?”

“Now I’m gonna go home and you can call me.”

“I thought you were gonna throw rocks.”

“Talking to you is more fun.”

“Where’d Poe go?”

“He went to play with Jessica.”

“Okay.”

“So you’re gonna call me?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, give me a few minutes so my dad doesn’t answer.”

Hux pushes the chair all the way from the door to the kitchen. He climbs back up with Ben’s phone number wrinkled in his hand and sits on the countertop like he does when his mom cooks sometimes, or when she gives him haircuts, or puts a band-aid on his knee.

He waits longer than he’s waited for anything in his whole life, and picks the phone up from the wall. It’s so big he can barely hold it. His mom showed him how to call somebody but he’s never had to do it before. It takes him a long time to match up the buttons on the phone with the numbers he wrote down, but when he finishes he puts the phone to his ear and listens to it ring. His heart beats a billion times between each one.

“Yeah?” an old man asks.

Hux gasps and hangs up.

He wants to cry again, like he always does, but he takes a deep breath and forces it to go away. He thinks about how maybe he wrote down different numbers than what Ben told him, or if maybe Ben gave him wrong numbers just to be mean. But there’s no way for Ben to call him, so Hux’s only chance to talk to him is to try again.

It’s easier when he dials this time. It only rings once. “Hello?” Ben asks. Hux can hear a rush of wind like Ben is breathing into the phone, out of breath.

“Hi,” Hux says.

♠

Time moves faster, when he’s talking to Ben. Ben told him not to call until after eleven because that’s when his dad wakes up, but Hux doesn’t know how to tell time, so he told Hux to call when _The Price Is Right_ starts. Every day, Hux wakes up and turns on the TV to channel seven. He pours a bowl of Cheerios and curls up on the couch and sits through _Family Feud_ then _Wheel of Fortune_ , and by the time Bob Barker calls down the first contestant, Hux is climbing onto the counter.

Some days they only get to talk for a little bit before Mr. Solo gives Ben chores to do, or Poe comes over, or he has tee-ball practice. But some days he has to watch Rey and on those days he gets to shut himself in the back room and talk real quiet while she naps, for hours and hours. He never runs out of things to say somehow, never runs out of questions to ask—things Hux had never thought of on his own, like what he wants to be when he grows up or if he could eat one food the rest of his life, what would it be.

He tells Ben he wants to fix locks on doors, because he doesn’t want people to be trapped inside of places. And if there was one food he could eat the rest of his life, it would be peanut butter sandwiches, because that’s all he really eats anyway. He asks Ben the same.

“I wanna be a knight!” Ben says.

“What’s a knight?”

“They go around and kill stuff! With swords!”

“Why would you wanna do that?”

“Because people are mean. Knights keep people from being mean.”

“By hurting them?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Isn’t that mean too?”

“Not when other people are mean first. Then it’s just...revenge.”

“What’s revenge?”

“When you get back at somebody for doing something bad.”

“Like when you hurt those kids for beating me up.” The memory makes his face feel hot and he doesn’t know why.

“Yeah! Just like that.”

“You’d be real good at that.” His face gets even warmer.

Ben sounds like he’s smiling. “Thanks.”

♠

Hux wakes up the morning of his seventh birthday alone, as usual. He thought maybe his mom would stay home from work and she’d take him to McDonald’s and the library. Some days he remembers when she comes into his room and it’s still dark, kisses his forehead before she leaves. He wakes up enough to say, “Have a good day, Mommy.” But today he must not have woken up.

He waits all morning until _The Price Is Right_ theme music and then calls Ben. It rings and rings and rings and nobody answers. He hangs up and tries again. No answer.

He spends the rest of the afternoon watching TV.

His mom gets home before dark at least. She makes him mac ‘n cheese with hot dogs cut up in it like he likes, and brings him a big cupcake she bought from the grocery. She sings happy birthday and tells him to make a wish before he blows out the candle.

Hux thinks and thinks and thinks, and wishes:

_I wish me and Ben could live happily ever after, the end._

He doesn’t know what “happily ever after, the end” really means, but he’s heard it on some of his tapes, and it sounds like something someone would wish for.

“I got you something,” his mom says after they eat the cupcake. Hux ate all the icing and left some of the cake. She pulls out a box from her purse, wrapped in fancy paper. “It’s a little old for you, but I think you’ll like it.”

Hux unwraps the paper, careful not to rip it, pulling the tape off the sides and bottom. He looks at the picture on the box, of a square thing and a shiny circle in front of it and lots of buttons. There’s a word on the box; he can read the letters but doesn’t know what it means.

“What is it?” he asks.

“A camera,” she explains. She says the word different than other people say it. One time Hux asked her why she talks funny and she said it was because she came here from Ireland, and that’s why Hux says things funny sometimes too. They all talk like her over there, she said.

“What does it say?”

She points to the letters as she sounds out the word. “Canon.” Then there are some numbers. “Thirty-five millimeter.”

It’s the most grown-up thing he’s ever owned, except for his socks. He opens the box and takes out the camera. It’s heavy, and he has to hold it with both hands. His mom shows him how to look through the little window and twist the lens and push the button and insert the film.

“Okay,” she says. “You’re ready to take your first picture.”

“What am I allowed to take it of?”

She smiles and says, “Anything you want, _a leanbh_.”

So he looks through the window, twists the lens, and takes her picture.

♠

Hux goes to bed with the camera tucked under his pillow. He wakes up in the middle of the night to the sound of tapping on his window. It’s probably a monster so he brings his blanket over his head and squeezes his eyes shut so it’ll go away.

“Hux!” he hears from the other side of the window. “Hux, wake up!”

Usually monsters don’t talk to him, he reasons, and lowers the blanket to peer out the window. Ben grins at him from the other side. It takes some figuring out, but he manages to turn the lock and slide it open. His mom told him he wasn’t allowed to open the door for anybody; she didn’t say anything about windows.

“What are you doing?” Hux asks. He looks down and gets dizzy. They live on the second floor, and Ben is hanging onto something Hux can’t see. He didn’t think it was possible to climb the side of his apartment. Then again, he didn’t think it was possible to beat up three second graders either, and Ben did that too.

“It’s your birthday, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I got a present for you.”

He shifts his hold on the building and reaches into his back pocket, pulls out a little box with a blue design on both sides and hands it to him.

HOYLE, it says. There’s a little round sticker holding it closed.

“What is it?” Hux asks.

“A deck of cards. You’re always so bored, I thought it might help.”

“What do I do with it?”

“You shuffle ‘em. Play games with ‘em. Whatever. There are fifty-two, and two Jokers. You gotta make sure you keep all fifty-two and two Jokers otherwise they won’t work.”

“But I don’t have anybody to play with.”

Ben gives him a wicked smile. “Then I guess I gotta come back.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out [ottenebrare's beautiful fanart](https://ottenebrare.tumblr.com/post/147500701708/omigosh-i-got-too-excited-about-huxs-birthday) of Hux and his camera!

Ben comes back the next morning, before _Family Feud_ is even over. Hux opens the window again, and Ben is about to climb inside, but Hux says, “Wait.”

“What?”

“I don’t think you’re allowed inside.”

“Why not?”

“I might get in trouble.”

“How?”

“If my mom finds you here.”

“Then I’ll leave before she gets home. She won’t find out.”

“I don’t know…” Hux says.

“I’ll just stay for a little bit then. Long enough to teach you how to shuffle or something.” When Hux hesitates, Ben adds in a sing-song voice, “It’ll be fuuun.”

“Okay,” Hux decides, and moves over to let Ben into his room.

Ben looks around. “You got a cool room. It’s so clean. Mine’s a mess.” He sits on Hux’s bed cross-legged and reaches for the deck of cards, but stops short at the camera on Hux’s bedside table. He picks it up and looks at it. “Whoa, is this a camera?”

Hux grabs it back from him and holds it close to his chest. “Yeah.”

“Take my picture,” Ben says, and offers his widest gap-toothed grin.

“Okay,” Hux says, and lifts the camera. He twists the lens so Ben isn’t fuzzy and then presses the button. The shutter snaps and Hux flicks the lever thing that makes it so he can take another.

“Now what happens?” Ben asks.

“I don’t know. My mom only taught me how to click the button. I think they come out later.”

“Oh, okay.” He pats the mattress. “I’ll teach you how to play Go Fish first.”

Hux climbs onto the bed. “Gofish?”

“No, two words.” He holds up two fingers, one at a time. “Go. Fish.”

“There’s no water.”

“It’s just what the game is called.” Ben opens the pack of cards and slides them out, fans them on the bed so Hux can see. “A deck of cards has four suits: hearts, diamonds, clubs, and spades. Spades are my favorite.”

“Why?” Hux asks.

“I don’t know, they just look cool. Like somebody stabbing a heart.”

Hux picks up one of the cards and inspects it. It has the letter A on it and an intricate design that’s different than the rest. It’s scary kind of, but he doesn’t know why. “Looks like a shovel to me.”

“It’s that too.”

Ben shows him the rest of the cards and then teaches him how to play Go Fish. He teaches him how to shuffle, too, even though Hux’s hands can’t reach longways over the cards. They play for a long time, until they get hungry and Hux splits his peanut butter sandwich. He would have made Ben his own but one time his mom counted the soup cans in the cabinet and found out Hux hadn’t been eating the tomato soup like he said he was, and then he had to tell her he didn’t like it, and then he felt guilty. He doesn’t want her to count the bread slices and think he’s been eating too much.

Later, Hux hears the _Guiding Light_ music in the other room and says, “My mom’s gonna be home soon.”

Ben looks at his watch which is also a calculator. “I gotta go anyway. Tee-ball practice.”

“Okay,” Hux says, stacking the cards up neatly to hide his frown.

“Hey, don’t be sad, I’ll come back tomorrow.”

“You will?”

“Yeah, and now you know how to play with the deck so you can practice shuffling and stuff.” Ben climbs out the window, and adds, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

♠

Ben comes over most days. He teaches Hux how to play War, Old Maid, Speed, Spit, Spoons, Snap, Egyptian Ratscrew, Crazy Eights, and Rummy. When Hux’s mom takes him to the library, he asks the library lady to show him books on cards. He checks out the ones with the most pictures and he and Ben work together reading them. One of them is on magic tricks and they spend all day trying to guess each other’s cards.

Hux brings his camera everywhere his mom takes him. He likes taking pictures of signs he can’t read yet (so he can read them later), cool rocks, and his mom. He takes a picture of his doctor and nurse before he gets a booster shot. He doesn’t even cry this time, and his mom buys him an ice cream cone from the Dairy Queen. He takes a picture of his favorite tree outside his bedroom. He takes a picture of the library lady while she’s carrying a bunch of books.

At McDonald’s his mom asks to borrow his camera and then she turns it around and takes a picture of him. He has a fry in his mouth.

“What’s that for?” he asks.

“One day you’ll want to remember this,” she says.

He doesn’t ask why. It sounds like one of those confusing things adults say when they want to sound smart.

She flicks the lever thing and it gets stuck. “Looks like you’re out of film.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’ll drop this roll off and get it developed on my way to work tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Hux says, and finishes his fries.

♠

The next day Hux wins his first game of Rummy. He’s worried Ben will get mad that he lost, but he grins and says, “Great job!” He gathers the cards together and hands them to Hux. “Are you nervous about second grade?”

“Not really.” Hux shuffles the cards and starts dealing them. He has to count out loud because it's hard to keep track of so many numbers in his head.

“Why not?”

He finishes and says, “Because you’re gonna be there.”

Ben doesn’t say anything and he doesn’t pick up his hand either, so Hux looks at him. He’s staring at Hux the same way he stares at his cards.

“What?” Hux asks.

“Nothing,” Ben says, and picks up his hand.

He leaves well after _Guiding Light_ , during the news when Hux’s mom usually gets home. “One more game,” he keeps saying, until Hux finally gets him to leave.

The front door opens as soon as Hux twists the lock on the window. He listens as his mom sets down her purse, her keys, goes through the mail. Next, she always says, “Hux?”

But today she doesn’t say anything. Hux waits. He listens to her open the fridge. Her heels against the floor of the kitchen. Opening and closing cabinets. Getting a pan from under the sink.

Hux wanders out of his room. “Mom?”

Her face is red like his gets when he’s been crying. She doesn’t look at him.

“Are you okay?”

“Sit down. I’ll have dinner ready in a minute.”

Hux does. He folds a piece of paper into a square while he waits. Smaller and smaller until it doesn’t stay folded.

She puts fried spam and peas in front of him with a glass of milk and takes a seat across the table. They eat in silence.

Hux has a hard time swallowing his food. He doesn’t know what’s wrong but it’s probably his fault, and tears well up in his eyes but he blinks them away. His mom looks at him and he expects her to ask if he’s okay but she still doesn’t say anything.

He can’t eat anymore. He puts down his fork and leans against the back of his chair, wipes his nose with his wrist.

“Is there something you want to tell me?” she asks.

Hux shudders when he breathes in. He can think of a lot of things he should probably tell her, like how he flushed her lipstick down the toilet once on accident because he knocked it off the sink, but he doesn’t. He shakes his head.

His mom reaches into her purse on the other chair and takes out a little envelope. She files through the inside of it and pulls a paper out that she slides across the table to Hux.

It’s the picture he took of Ben. In his room the day after his birthday.

Her voice is gentle as she asks, “Who is this, _a leanbh_?”

He can barely talk around the lump in his throat. “My friend,” he says.

“Who?”

“My friend,” Hux repeats. “Ben.”

“And Ben comes over when I’m not home?”

Hux doesn’t answer.

“Hux,” his mom says.

He nods.

“You know you’re not supposed to open the door for anyone.”

“I didn’t!” Hux says in a rush. “He comes in through the window.”

She gives him a long look. “I see.”

Even though Hux didn’t break a rule he still knows he did something bad. He starts crying. “I’m sorry, Mommy. He’s the only one who talks to me.”

Her chin trembles like Hux's does when he's trying not to cry and he doesn't understand why she's crying when he's the one who got in trouble. “I know you’re lonely, I’m trying to find a daycare we can afford. It’s just—” She takes a deep breath. “It’s hard, and you deserve better. But you can’t let people into our home without me here. He might do something to you—”

“He wouldn’t! He’s my best friend!”

“I know, I’m sure he is. I can trust you to be a good boy all alone here, but I don’t know him.”

“But you could! He’s real nice, I promise.”

She wipes her eyes with her fingers and it smudges her makeup. “I don’t doubt that. But no more, alright? You can’t let him inside anymore.”

Hux purses his lips and looks away. Tears are still falling down his face but it doesn’t hurt as bad anymore. It’s not the sad kind of crying but the mad kind.

“Hux. Promise me.”

“I promise,” he mutters, and slides off the chair to go shut himself in his room.


	4. Chapter 4

Hux is waiting by his open window the next day. Ben arrives and says, “What’s wrong?”

“You can’t come in.” Hux looks at the tree behind him instead of at his face.

“Why not?”

“My mom said so. She found out.” He pauses, shifts a little, swallows down the ache in his throat. He wishes he didn’t cry so much. Other boys don’t cry this much.

“Are you in trouble?”

“No, she just told me not to do it again.”

“Oh.”

He wants Ben to climb back down and go home. Hux just isn’t like other boys, he guesses; he doesn’t get to have friends, because he’s a _ginger kid_ and a _runt,_ because he’s _poor_ and he lives in a _dump_ and his mom is something called a _whore_.

“So come with me,” Ben says.

“What?”

“Come with me. To the quarry. I’ll show you.”

“I can’t.”

“Sure you can, it’s not far. I’ll have you back before your mom gets home.”

“It’s against the rules.”

“What rules? Did your mom ever tell you not to leave?”

Hux thinks about it. She told him not to open the door for anybody, not to answer the phone, and...that’s all he can remember. She also said that if there was a fire, he could leave. Leaving must not be as bad as inviting somebody in.

“C’mon,” Ben says with the wild-eyed grin that makes Hux want to do whatever he says. “It’s not a big deal, I go there every day.”

“Okay,” Hux says.

Ben starts to climb down. He uses foot holes in the broken brick and a gutter drain, then the wooden slats of Hux’s downstairs neighbor’s patio, then jumps to the ground. He wipes his hands off on his shorts.

“I can’t do that,” Hux calls after him.

“Sure you can. It’s not that hard. You just gotta be careful.”

“What if I fall?”

Ben squints up at the sun. “I won’t let you fall.”

Hux climbs out the window one foot at a time. Perched on the sill, he asks, “Now what?”

Ben points to the gutter drain and says, “Hold onto that, and then put your foot in that hole, see? Like I did.”

Hux does, but he’s shaking. The gutter drain is almost too hot to hold. He finds the gap in the brick but his other leg is dangling; he can’t see where to go next. He’s not as tall as Ben, or as strong, or as brave.

“Below you,” Ben says. “See that little ledge? Go there next.”

He does, but it’s a stretch, and he almost loses his balance. It takes him a while to catch his footing again. Ben points out the next step, and the next, until Hux makes it to the patio fence. “Now what?” he asks.

“Now you jump.”

“I don’t wanna.”

“It’s just grass. You’ll be okay.”

So Hux jumps. He lands on his feet and wobbles, but Ben catches him, like before. “See? Easy.” Then he takes Hux by the hand and runs toward the woods behind the apartment complex.

They run and run and run. Hux stumbles, tree branches and burs catch at his arms and shirt, the wind rushes past his ears. He doesn’t have time to think before he jumps over logs and leaps across streams, there’s no time to carefully consider all his choices, what his mom would say, if the risk of falling is worth it. There are no walls, no doors, no windows. He can’t hear Bob Barker telling him to spay or neuter his pets. Or the cleaning lady that vacuums the hallways. Or the roar of trucks passing on the road. He moves, and he doesn’t think. He runs, and he doesn’t think. He jumps, and he doesn’t think.

They reach the quarry and Hux slips on the slick pebbles, but he rights himself and says, “Whoa.”

It’s like a rain puddle but a lot bigger, or a pool but rounder. Hux has never seen anything like it. The water is brown and murky and it laps up onto the bank in steady waves.

“I told you it was cool,” Ben says. Then he picks up a pebble and slings it. Instead of falling in the water, it bounces off once, and again, and a third time, then sinks.

“How did you do that?” Hux asks.

“Magic.” He picks up another one and skips it across the water. “It’s a game. You see how many times you can get it to skip. My record is four but my dad can do six.”

“Can you teach me?”

“Sure. First you gotta find a rock that’s kinda flat and round.”

They bend over and shuffle around until they find one. When Hux picks it up, it’s muddy on the bottom and coats his fingers with dirt.

“Okay, now you just gotta…” Ben pulls his arm back and flings his own rock. It skips twice.

Hux tries to mimic the motion. The rock sinks.

“It’s okay,” Ben says, “mine did that the first time too.”

They pick up rocks and throw them, over and over. Hux pauses to watch how easy Ben does it, how he gets a little dent between his eyebrows and the pout he makes when he’s focused, flicks his wrist and the rock sails.

Hux can’t make any of his rocks magic, but then Ben stands behind him and takes Hux’s wrist in his hand. “Like this,” he says, and adjusts Hux’s hand on the rock, his finger and thumb on the sides. He pulls Hux’s arm back and whips it forward. Hux lets go. It flies, flies, drops to the water, skips, skips, and sinks.

“Wow,” Hux says. Ben’s hand is still holding his. Their hands are both gritty with mud.

“See?” Ben asks. “Magic.”

♠

Climbing up into his room is harder than climbing down, but the panic of being found out pushes him forward. He hurts all over by the time he rolls through his window, landing hard on his back and staring at the ceiling. He rushes to wash his hands and face and hopes his mom doesn’t ask about the tinge of sun on his cheeks and the bridge of his nose.

After dinner, his mom reads to him, a book Hux had liked yesterday but can’t focus on today. (All he can think about is Ben’s hand in his, the magic rocks, the quarry.) She asks him what he’d like to do tomorrow since it’s Saturday. (Sunlight and trees and running until his tummy hurts.) He tells her he wants to go to the library. (Ben’s muddy shoes and scraped-up knees.) She kisses his forehead. (Ben’s goofy smile and crooked teeth.) She puts him to bed. (Ben.) He doesn’t sleep.

♠

The end of summer. Hux thinks he should be sad but he isn’t sad at all because he found out he’ll be in the same class as Ben. He’s good at skipping rocks now, shuffling cards, climbing out his window. He’s good at making Ben laugh, lying to his mom, and Rummy. He’s getting better at sleight of hand. He doesn’t know what second grade will be like, but he bets he’ll be good at that too.

They’re lying in the grassy clearing they usually play cards in. Ben brought bologna sandwiches with cheese and Miracle Whip, chocolate chip cookies his grandma made, and a baseball. Hux watches as Ben tosses the ball above him and catches it over and over. The sunlight sifts through the leaves and makes a shadow pattern on his face. Hux wishes he could take a picture.

Ben catches the ball. He turns over and rests his head on his hand. “Hey Hux?”

“Yeah?” Hux closes his eyes and feels the warmth of the sun on his face, the grass prickling the back of his neck and arms. Ben is just inches away, and it’s the only time Hux ever feels like he can breathe all the way.

“Do you think magic is real?” Ben asks.

“Like magic tricks?”

“No, like magic. Moving stuff with your brain. Reading people’s minds. Making people do stuff. Magic-magic.”

“Making people do what stuff?”

Hux feels Ben shrug. “Whatever you want them to do.”

“That’d be cool.”

“So do you?”

“Think magic is real?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know.” Hux pauses to think about it, then adds, “I don’t think so.”

When Ben doesn’t reply, Hux opens one eye and glances at him. Ben is on his back again, frowning at the sky.

“But if anyone was magic, it’d be you,” Hux says.

Ben looks at him again, not frowning anymore, but not smiling either. Intense, like skipping rocks and dealing cards. Like Hux is the whole world. “You think so?”

Hux nods.

“Sometimes,” Ben says, “it feels like everything’s connected. Like with strings. And if I could just see the strings, I could pull them. I could make things do what I wanted.”

“Are people connected too?” Hux asks.

“Uh huh. But some strings between people are shorter than others. Like ours. I bet ours is the shortest string you can have.”

“Yeah.” Hux thinks about how tomorrow they’re going to walk to school together. Spend lunch and recess together. Walk home together. The next day, too. And the day after. Every day, forever. “I think so too.”


	5. Chapter 5

_One minute was enough...a person had to work hard for it, but a minute of perfection was worth the effort.  
A moment was the most you could ever expect from perfection. _

—Chuck Palahniuk, _Fight Club_

♠

* * *

**PART TWO**

“Two dollars,” one kid says.

“Three,” the girl beside him adds.

“Anyone else?” Hux asks. The deck of cards is a warm familiar weight in his hands, the edges dulled from use, the corners tinted. He thumbs over them and they make a satisfying noise as they run against the pad of his finger.

A boy butts into their little circle and says, “Five.”

“You don’t even know what’s going on,” Hux tells him.

“I just wanna feel included.”

“Last call,” Hux announces. He scans the crowd of classmates staring at him in anticipation. The cafeteria is loud and busy, teachers turning a blind eye. No one else offers a buck.

He takes the top card off the deck and shows it to the boy in front of him—a sophomore wearing a varsity football jacket. Finn, he thinks. “Is this your card?”

Finn snorts an obnoxious sound and says, “Uh, no.” Then he laughs. Everyone else follows.

The crowd starts to commend themselves on betting against Hux. The ones who didn’t bet start straggling away. Hux tosses down the cards in defeat.

Finn holds out his hand for Hux to pay up, but Ben walks by their table with the seven of hearts between two fingers. He passes it to Finn and says, “Hey, I found this in the hallway. Is it yours?”

“Fuck,” Finn says.

“Not again,” the girl beside him adds. She unzips her bookbag.

“They did this at our old school,” another girl mutters to her friend.

The rest of the kids drop their proffered money on the table and disburse to their various cliques. Finn shoulders his bag and asks, “You pull this shit a lot? Hustling people outta money?”

“It's a fair bet,” Hux says.

“It's a con.”

Hux twists one of Ben’s hair ties around his card deck and pockets it. “It’s just a magic trick.”

“Magic tricks aren’t supposed to cheat people out of money.”

Ben butts in, a threatening edge to his words: “Lay off, man.”

“You’re new here,” Finn says, walking backwards away from them. “Better watch yourselves, alright?”

Ben takes the seat beside Hux and pulls out his lunch from his backpack. Hux passes Ben half the money at the same time Ben hands Hux half his sandwich.

“How much?” Ben asks around a bite.

“Twenty.”

“Not bad.”

“For a first day.” They eat in silence, alone together at the table. The other tables are overcrowded but enough of their middle school cred must have bled into high school—their classmates have always left them a wide berth. “Find anything promising?”

“Under the auditorium,” Ben says. “The football field bleachers before it gets cold. Custodial closets are all too small. We might be able to find an empty classroom if we can get our hands on a master schedule.”

“You’re not even a little bit worried.” Hux finishes the sandwich and reaches in Ben’s lunch bag for a cookie.

“Why would I be?”

“Your godfather is the guidance counselor. Don’t you think they’re keeping a close eye on us?”

Ben grins in that dirty way that makes Hux shiver. “It’s only fair we give them something to look at.”

♠

When Hux was eight, he intentionally bombed the aptitude test that would have put him in advanced math so that he could stay in the remedial class with Ben; Ben needed the help anyway. Nine, Hux started hustling during Ben’s ballgames; Ben batted his first home run. Ten, Hux got a fancy award he didn’t care about for scores on a test he doesn’t remember taking; Ben got put on the All-Star team. Eleven, Hux moved his hustling to recess and immediately got caught; Ben kept him company during his suspension. Twelve, he continued hustling anyway; Ben got him a book on counting cards. Thirteen, Hux failed two more aptitude tests to keep himself out of advanced history and English; Ben got put on a longlist for a future baseball scholarship.

Every day Ben’s dad makes him wake up early to go running, and Hux uses part of his hustling money to buy blank cassette tapes. He listens to the radio at night and records the songs he likes onto the tapes, then gives the mixes to Ben to listen to while he runs. He makes a new one whenever the tape starts to warp.

Hux buys his own film now, gets his pictures developed at a one-hour photo by the corner store. They’re mostly of Ben anymore—Ben playing baseball, Ben climbing a tree, Ben looking at Hux like he just said something stupid, Ben at the quarry, Ben lying in Hux’s bed on lazy Sundays. Hux keeps them all in a shoebox under his bed.

Their parents collectively gave up trying to keep them apart years ago. Separate, they were “demon children” Hux’s mother said. Together they were tolerable. Every night, Hux has dinner at Ben’s house or Ben has dinner at Hux’s apartment. They both have a curfew at eight but when they part ways, it’s only for an hour or so. Then Ben sneaks out of his room and climbs into Hux’s window. Sometimes on clear nights they both sneak out and stargaze at the quarry. Sometimes Ben falls asleep in Hux’s bed and he wakes up before dawn to go back home. Sometimes they lie so close that Hux has to cross his eyes to see him clearly. On those nights, Hux thinks about how the constellations of moles on Ben’s face aren’t so different from the ones in the sky.

The only thing different about this school year—aside from being back at the bottom of the totem pole and having to navigate a new building—is changing clothes for gym class. Hux has watched Ben change clothes a million times, but now it's different. Over summer his shoulders filled out a little and his height skyrocketed and his voice, almost overnight, flipped a switch to a low baritone that Hux no longer recognizes. He even got his braces off already. Hux, in turn, hasn’t changed nearly as gracefully. His voice cracks on every other word and he’s still shorter than his mom. He has pimples all over and he trips over his own feet.

The worst part is that he had his first _inappropriate dream_ last month. About Ben. He doesn’t remember the details but he woke up to an unfortunate situation in his sheets. Now every time he looks at Ben he feels funny in a way he can’t describe, and he can’t stop staring at Ben’s lips and hands and throat. Ben asks him, “What are you looking at?” and Hux says, “Your stupid face,” and Ben shoves his shoulder and starts yammering about something else.

So now in gym class, whenever Hux catches a shirtless Ben at the corner of his eye, he can feel his face get hot, his throat runs dry, and he can’t look away. If Ben notices, he doesn’t say anything. But that’s all tolerable. What Hux can’t stand is that _other_ people can see Ben in various states of undress in the locker room. _Other_ people can ogle him. It sends an unparalleled wave of fury through Hux. He can’t explain it, so he doesn’t mention it to Ben, and hopes it all just goes away so things can go back to normal.

♠

A Saturday afternoon at the quarry, one of the last warm ones of the year. Ben pulls off his shirt and starts climbing the tree that hangs over the water. Hux watches the easy grace with which he moves, lifts his camera and takes a shot. Ben gives him a manic grin and jumps off the branch into the water. The resulting splash is the only sound for miles. Ben bobs back up to the surface and swipes his hair out of his face.

“C’mon,” he tells Hux. “It’s not that bad.”

Hux takes another picture and pushes the advance lever. “It’s filthy in there. And I didn’t bring swim trunks.”

“Then don’t wear any.”

Hux swallows hard and pretends to change the shutter speed on his camera. “I just ate. I’ll drown.”

“That’s a myth.” Ben backstrokes in a lazy circle. “And you know I’d never let you drown.”

Like always, Ben wins. Hux ends up naked in the water. Ben shoves his head under. Hux breaches the surface again and tackles Ben back down. It’s normal. The feeling of all Ben’s new muscles under Hux’s hands. Normal. Ben’s deep laugh. Normal. The way Ben looks at him, sunlight shining on droplets of water clumped in his long eyelashes. Normal. The way Hux looks back. Normal.

Hux rakes his fingers through his hair. Ben is floating around him, his knees and elbows and hips occasionally brushing Hux as he passes. “Ben,” Hux says.

“Mm?”

“I don’t want things to change.”

Ben stops in front of Hux, lowers himself until he’s treading water. He’s too close. Hux has just now noticed: he’s always too close. “Why would things change?”

He wishes he hadn’t said anything. He comes up with the only thing that might make sense other than the truth. “Your mom.”

“What about her?”

“I heard her say something about running for office. What if you have to move?”

Ben laughs. “She’s running for Senate. It just means she’ll be in DC a lot. Dad and Rey and Grandma Padme and me will still be here.”

Before Hux can reply, Ben tangles their limbs together and pulls him under the water. It’s a comforting embrace of sorts, aggressive although it may be. When they reach the surface again, Ben is laughing, and Hux shoves him, and things finally feel normal again.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a small timeline error in this chapter. If you notice it, please suspend your disbelief.

Grandma Padme suggests that Hux join an extracurricular, so that when Ben is busy Hux isn’t just moping around making mixtapes. He settles for chess club because it seems like the least amount of work and commitment. Nerds—many of whom Hux has swindled over the past few months—glare at him as he enters the biology room. Six chess boards line the tables.

Hux takes a seat on a stool and puts his backpack down. A familiar pit of dread wells in his stomach, the kind he gets whenever he does something new without Ben. The boy across from him doesn’t seem to notice Hux’s trepidation. He sets up the pieces, the white ones in front of Hux and the black ones in front of himself. He looks at Hux expectantly.

“What?” Hux says.

The kid replies, “Your move.”

Hux knows every card game in the _Hoyle Modern Encyclopedia_ , but he’s never played a board game in his life. “I don’t know how to play.”

His opponent isn’t fazed, like maybe new players drop in all the time. He points to the tallest piece and says, “This is your king.”

As he explains what all the pieces do and how the game works, Hux glances around and notices there are no teachers. He interrupts the lesson and asks, “Where’s the supervisor?”

“What supervisor?”

“Aren’t clubs supposed to have a teacher present?”

The kid looks at him like he’s crazy. “We’re just here to play chess, man.”

Nerds, Hux thinks. Susceptible to hustling, appreciative of games. This is the best idea Hux has ever had.

♠

It takes Hux a month of chess club before he starts winning more than he loses. “Let’s make it interesting,” he says to his opponents. They all know Hux is mediocre at best, but none of them trust him anyway. So he keeps it simple. “I win, you have to play a card game with me.”

“And if I win?” they ask.

“I’ll teach you a magic trick.”

It’s probably one of the more innocent gambles Hux has made. They all look at him like there’s some twist they’re not seeing. “What’s the card game?” they ask.

“Blackjack.”

It takes another two weeks before Hux has enough players for a full table. He stands on one side of the lab counter, his players on the other side. Hux deals. They play betting with matchsticks. Hux teaches the kids who don’t know how. Eventually he doesn’t have to con anybody into playing; at the end of chess club, everyone stays after anyway either to watch or play. They have fun, totally unaware of their roles as lab rats in Hux’s experiment to learn card counting.

♠

Baseball season finally ends. Hux has Ben’s attention back at last.

“So what’s the plan?” Ben asks at lunch. He takes a gulp from his chocolate milk carton and hands it to Hux. “You finally found a place for blackjack right?”

Hux shushes him and looks around. He takes the carton and passes his bag of Cheetos over in turn. “Yes. And I need you to start coming to chess club.”

Ben makes an indignant noise. “I know we don’t care a lot about popularity, but come on.”

“Fine, come by the bio lab _after_ chess club. I need you to deal.”

Ben opens his mouth and Hux tosses a grape in. While he’s chewing he says, “Am I dealing or am I _dealing_?”

“Just dealing. We’re still on matchsticks.” Their knees brush together even though they have the entire table to themselves. Hux asks, “Do you think counting cards is cheating?”

Ben shrugs. “The idea of cheating is just something a sore loser came up with.”

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t believe in rules.” Ben licks the Cheetos powder from his thumb. “Counting cards is like, I don’t know...bunting. Stealing bases. Telling the batter you fucked his mom. All that stuff sounds like it should be cheating but it isn’t; it’s just how the game is played. If you’re smart enough to count cards, I think you should do it.”

“It _is_ my game,” Hux says in agreeance. “And I never specified that other people couldn’t count cards too.”

“See? It’s like my dad says: you gotta do what it takes to win.”

♠

Ben deals and Hux plays. About twenty kids show up today, several of whom aren’t even in chess club. Hux isn't playing to win; all he wants to do is count the cards and make sure he mentally chooses the right options before intentionally choosing the wrong ones. Card counting isn’t nearly as hard as he thought it would be—just quick math and attentiveness (which is admittedly difficult with Ben’s graceful hands dealing cards)—but the results aren’t as consistent as he’d like them.

At the end of the game, Hux announces, “Next week, ante in. We’re playing with pennies.”

“Why?” a kid asks.

“It's more fun.”

Ten more people show up the following week. Hux raises the ante to nickels. Ten more people. Dimes. Ten more. Quarters. The room is packed.

Hux buys in at the beginning and purposefully loses until he’s down, then picks himself back up and pulls a profit. Never enough to make people think he’s cheating them, just enough for a ten to twenty dollar payout between he and Ben at the end of every meeting. With the occasional hustle peppered in, he pulls upwards fifty dollars a week.

People start calling it Quarters. Hux can hear the whispers in the hallway, watches the trade of brown paper quarter rolls for bills between hands. He chooses the table based on anyone who can beat him in chess that day, which are very few, and a lotto of individuals who had done him favors throughout the week. People hand him sleeves of cookies in the hallway with a knowing look, term papers written on his behalf, the keys to upcoming tests. All for a chance at the Quarters table.

“I can’t deal this week,” Ben says at his locker between third and fourth periods. Hux’s class is at the other end of the school but a ginger kid who looks remarkably like him with a free period offered to sit in on his behalf.

“Why not?” Hux asks. He follows Ben to study hall, which is supervised by a senior Quarters regular.

“I’m hanging out with Annie.”

“Who the hell is Annie?”

“The girl who asked me to turnabout.”

Hux laughs. Ben doesn’t even _know_ any girls, let alone any well enough to ask him to a dance. Pairs of pretty eyes fall on Ben as they walk through the hallway. Girls with permed hair and hot pink nails trying to make eye contact. The few who succeed look away and giggle with their friends as they pass. Hux can’t remember when this began. It's probably been months, he thinks. Boys look at Ben and Hux sees red; girls look at him and Hux doesn't apparently notice. 

“You’re not kidding,” Hux says.

Ben glances at him from his peripheral vision. “Why would I be kidding?”

The answer to that question involves something Hux doesn’t think he can put into words. Something about the shortness of the string between them. “You said yes to her? You’re actually going to turnabout?”

“Yeah, I mean, I wanted to go to homecoming too but I was too busy with baseball to ask anybody.”

Hux vaguely remembers the night of homecoming. It didn’t occur to him that he could have gone. Dinner, a nice outfit, a corsage—he couldn’t have afforded it anyway. And because it didn’t occur to him, he assumed Ben wasn’t interested either. They spent the evening sneaking into the movie theater to see _Space Jam_ and then _Sleepers_. It baffles Hux that Ben might have wanted to do anything other than throw popcorn in each other’s mouths for hours on end.

“You’re a group of chess nerds,” Ben says, “I’m sure somebody’s picked dealing up by now. Just ask around.”

“It’s not that.”

Ben stops in the hallway. Hoards of people move around them, a parting sea of disgruntled adolescents. “Then what is it?”

Hux stares at him for a long moment. All he can feel is the invisible string, all he can see are Ben’s eyes, but when he tries to think of something to say, all that comes out is, “Nothing.”

♠

The Saturday of turnabout, Hux has never been more bored in his life. His mom is home, so they watch TV together. They don’t talk much anymore. Sometimes he finds her staring at the television set but it’s not turned on. Sometimes she doesn’t remember to make dinner, so Hux does for both of them, and she doesn’t notice until he physically puts a plate in her lap. Sometimes Hux has to remind her to wake up in the mornings so she doesn’t get fired again. Sometimes it feels like he doesn’t have a mother at all anymore.

He remembers that she didn’t used to be like this, but like girls ogling Ben, he can’t place when exactly it changed. He once asked her about it when he was ten, and she said, “Most of us grow, but for some people, time just chips away at us until there’s nothing left.” And when he asked her what she meant, she replied, “You’ll understand one day, _a leanbh_.”

During a commercial break, his mom asks, “What do you want for your birthday?”

She’s curled up on the corner of the couch wearing a bathrobe and slippers. She hasn’t moved all day. Lines of silver hair pepper the waves of red. A cigarette is perched between her fingers; the walls of their apartment have yellowed around all the picture frames.

“My birthday’s not for four months,” Hux says.

“Never too early to start planning.”

She’s talking to him, at least, and he’s grateful for it so he plays along. “A chess set.”

“A chess set,” she repeats, and taps her ash in a glass tray. After another long drag, she exhales and says, “I can do that.”

♠

Hux can count on his hands and feet the number of days he’s gone without talking to Ben since he turned seven. He goes to bed early, lies awake and thinks about Ben in a nice shirt and tie, putting a corsage around the wrist of some girl. Grandma Padme taking their pictures with— _ugh_ —a disposable camera. Going out to dinner. Dancing together. _Touching_.

Hux has just fallen into a fitful sleep when he hears tapping at his window. He wakes up and opens it—the cold rushes in and so does Ben.

“What are you doing?” Hux shuts the window and goosebumps break out all over his body.

Ben is wearing a crisp red shirt and black tie, black pants, and a little white rose on his chest. “I ditched.”

“Annie?”

“And her friends, yeah. I couldn’t take it.”

“Why not?”

Ben sits on the edge of the bed and takes off his shoes and socks. He aggressively yanks at his tie. “Nobody knew anything about baseball or cards or photography or any of the stuff we like. Everybody talked about other people, who was wearing what, who was dancing with who.”

“Whom.”

“Whatever.” He pulls off his belt and tosses it on the pile. “And dancing. God. Never wanna do that again.”

“What was so bad about it?”

Ben unbuttons his shirt without regard to his boutonniere. Hux can hear Grandma Padme screaming about wrinkles as he dumps it unceremoniously with the rest of it. “I don’t know. I kept thinking I was gonna crush her or step on her feet or something. Girls are so...small.”

“Won’t she be upset you left?”

“I don’t think so. By the end she’d started dancing with that Finn guy anyway.” The pants come next, and now he’s left in his boxers and undershirt. He climbs under the covers beside Hux and settles in. “I just wanna go to sleep.”

Hux watches him; they lie side by side, face to face. Ben’s legs are too big for the bed so they tangle between Hux’s. He’s cold all over and his hair falls in his eyes; without thought, Hux brushes it away, like he’s done thousands of times before. But this time, Ben catches his wrist, brings his hand to his chest—where the boutonniere had been, where his heart is. He closes his eyes and says, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Hux asks. His breath runs shallow. Ben’s heart thrums under his hand.

“For thinking anything could make me happier than this.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings in end note.

Spring break is warm, and Hux and Ben don’t leave each other’s sides. Next week Ben will start baseball practice again, but this is always the time of year his dad goes away on a few cross-country hauls. His mom is busy with the election; Rey and Poe are still in middle school so Hux only sees them in passing. Grandma Padme packs elaborate picnics and tells Hux and Ben to have fun, gives them little speeches about enjoying youth and makes enigmatic remarks about love. She winks at Hux a lot when Ben isn’t looking, and is the only person in Ben’s whole family who actually likes him.

“Do you ever think about girls?” Ben asks. The air is cool but the sun beats down on the clearing and warms them. Ben has a smear of mustard on the corner of his mouth that he licks off with his tongue. “I mean like... _think_ about them.”

“Oh,” Hux says. The inappropriate dreams happen more often now, but they don’t seem as bad if Hux can...assist himself before he goes to sleep. He tries to think about girls, the Playboys Ben showed him that his dad keeps in a box in his closet. It never works, and eventually his imagination starts replacing gentle curves with harsh angles, blonde hair with black, blue eyes with brown. Teeth that have already gone a little crooked from never wearing a retainer. A big nose and big ears. Big rough hands—

Hux shrugs. “Yeah, I guess.”

“I don’t,” Ben says. He takes another bite of his sandwich and looks at the grass between them.

“Okay.”

“I feel like there’s something wrong with me. The guys on my team talk about girls all the time, and I just...don’t care.”

“What do you think about instead?” Hux’s heart is pounding and he doesn’t know why.

Ben stares at his sandwich. His face is all blotchy like it gets when he comes back from a run. The tips of his ears are the color of Grandma Padme’s garden tomatoes. “I don’t know,” he mutters. “Other stuff.”

“I think about other stuff too.”

Ben looks at him again. “You said you think about girls.”

“I thought that’s what I was supposed to say.”

“So you don’t think about girls either.”

Hux shakes his head emphatically.

“You think about...other stuff.”

Hux nods.

“Good,” Ben says. His face is even redder now. It feels like something’s changed, but Hux has no idea what.

♠

Finn starts coming to Quarters with Jimmy and Brett, a couple of his football buddies who follow him around everywhere. They don’t try to buy in, just stand in the corner and watch the game. Hux hasn’t talked to Finn since the first day of school. He heard that Finn volunteers at the old folks’ home on the weekends and sings in his church choir. Hux doesn’t trust anyone that good coming to a place like this.

Now that Ben is back in baseball, Hux has a rotating dealer roster. He inches his way higher so that it’s normal to bring home thirty or forty dollars a session. He keeps an extra ace in his sleeve just in case he counts wrong, but has only had to pull it once at the tail end of a meeting, a move borne of desperation since the electric went out at home the night before. He could hear his blood pounding in his ears as he slipped it from his wrist. Despite the dozens of onlookers, nobody caught him. He raked in fifty that day, just enough to cover the bill and get the lights turned on again.

♠

A Wednesday in April. Chemistry, one of Hux’s few classes with Ben. They’re sitting close, knees and thighs touching. Ben writes notes in the margins of Hux’s notebook; Hux writes him back and Ben has to cover his mouth to keep from laughing. Hux has chess club and Quarters later; Ben has baseball practice. After, Hux is going to go home and listen to the radio while he does his homework and records songs on Ben’s newest mixtape. He’ll bake a frozen lasagna for dinner, and after bed, Ben will climb in his window and fall asleep with him before waking up at dawn and going on his run. Tomorrow will be the same, except they won’t have chess or baseball, and they’ll go to the quarry instead. The day after will be Friday, and then the weekend.

Hux is drawing a little spade in Ben’s notebook. The room’s PA comes on and the secretary says, “Hux O’Connell, please come to the front office.”

Everyone looks at him, an entire room of blank faces that are all hiding the same thought: _Busted_.

Ben looks at him with wide eyes and mouths, _Shit_.

Hux mouths back angrily, _Finn._

He packs up his bookbag and slings it over his shoulder, can feel the room’s attention on his back as he leaves. He takes his time down the hallway, gauging how mad his mother will be about his impending suspension—not very, he reasons. She hasn’t spoken to him in days, didn’t even notice when the electric went out. He doesn’t have to climb out his window anymore, he can walk out the front door and she won’t ask where he’s going. Worst case scenario, she tells him to stop and he’ll say he will and instead learn to be more discreet. And he’ll make sure Finn keeps his stupid goodie-two-shoes nose out of it.

Hux makes it to the office. The secretary won’t look at him. She directs him, not to the principal’s office like the last time he got suspended, but the guidance counselor’s.

Mr. Kenobi offers Hux a warm smile when he enters, closes the door behind them. “Have a seat, Hux.”

Hux sits down and puts his bookbag between his knees. It’s always weird seeing Mr. Kenobi at school in his suit and tie, when Hux is more used to him at Ben’s family cookouts in jeans and a t-shirt. Hux knows Ben was named after him, knows there’s some kind of big sad story between Grandma Padme and Ben’s late Grandpa Anakin and Mr. Kenobi, but he doesn’t know the details and he’s always been too afraid to ask.

Hux forces his panic back, the gut-instinct fear he always gets when Ben isn’t beside him. He wishes Ben could have come with him, but he wouldn’t want him to get in trouble too, especially with his godfather. He has too much going for him, too much to lose. All Hux will get is a slap on the wrist before everyone forgets about him again.

Mr. Kenobi sits in the big chair behind his desk and puts his glasses on. He folds his hands across a manilla folder and says, “I’m sorry to have to tell you this.”

Hux blinks. He had been expecting, _We’ve been told you run an after-school gambling ring…_

Instead, Mr. Kenobi says, “There was an accident. I’m sorry, Hux. Your mother didn’t make it.”

Hux doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t think anything. He doesn’t move.

Mr. Kenobi opens the manilla folder. “I’m told it was instantaneous. She didn’t suffer.” He keeps talking, reading from the papers in the folder as if it were a storybook. No other cars were involved, he says. There were no tire tracks, he says. They don’t suspect foul play. It wasn’t raining. He’s saying something without saying it. He doesn’t have to. Hux knows.

They’ve contacted his father. Hux won’t go into foster care. His father lives on the other side of town, so Hux won’t need to change schools. A silver lining, Mr. Kenobi says. (Hux doesn’t remember his father’s first name.) He’s gone ahead and arranged everything he could, but the state will have to handle the rest. His mother’s assets will be repossessed due to debt. (Hux has never spoken to his father.) Hux will be allowed to pack his possessions, and his father will pick him up this evening. (Hux doesn’t remember what his father looks like.) Mr. Kenobi has contacted Hux’s distant relatives in Ireland. His mother’s body will be shipped to them. There will be no funeral.

Mr. Kenobi offers to drive Hux to his apartment instead of finishing out his school day. He arranges for Ben to get out early too. Ben and Hux sit in the back seat of Mr. Kenobi’s car and Hux looks out the window at all the trees he’s walked past thousands of times, the McDonald’s and the Dairy Queen, the library. No one says anything. Ben holds his hand.

♠

Hux doesn’t own much. His camera, photos, a radio. Some clothes. A few books. Hux’s whole life can fit in a single box.

“Hux?” Ben asks. He’s been folding Hux’s shirts. Mr. Kenobi is on the phone in the living room.

Ben is holding a box, wrapped neatly in the funny pages from three weeks ago. An envelope rests on top with Hux’s name on it.

Hux sits on his bed and opens the envelope. It’s a birthday card. The inside reads, _Happy birthday. I’m sorry I won’t be there to celebrate it. I love you._ He opens the gift carefully so he won’t rip the paper. He finds a chess set inside, a wooden board folded in thirds that opens to a porcelain set of black and white figures.

Ben holds him as he cries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hux's mother commits suicide. It's not described, just implied.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings in end notes.

Hux’s father is a cold man who doesn’t look Hux in the eye when he talks. He speaks in direct orders or not at all. His stepmother is a platinum blonde-haired woman with a pinched, wrinkly face and long nails. She uses words like “ain’t” and “y’all” and her breath always smells like liquor and burnt coffee. Hux’s new house is a ranch out in the country; his room had been used for unregistered gun storage and a spare closet. They didn’t empty their possessions out of it, just stuck an old twin mattress in the corner and told Hux he could sleep there.

Hux has to ride the bus to school now; some of the Quarters players make sure he always gets a seat in the very back. No one talks to him except for Ben. Their friendship hasn’t changed, except Hux sleeps alone now and has no way to get to Ben’s house or vice versa. They only see each other at school anymore, because Hux’s dad won’t even drive him over so he can tutor Ben in math. Hux talks to Ben on the phone some nights except when his dad wants to get online, and then Hux has to hang up. They don’t discuss what’s going to happen in the summer, how they’ll be able to see or speak to each other. Hux thinks his dad might put him to work mowing neighborhood yards.

Rumors start. Maybe it’s the way Ben looks at Hux now, or the way Hux looks back. Hux thinks Finn had something to do with it. He begins hearing words he’d never heard before whispered as he passes in the hallway. Fag, queer, gay, fairy, queen. Hux ignores it because he doesn’t know what it means anyway, until Ben says, “Don’t listen to them.”

“What?”

“They don’t know shit. Don’t listen to them.”

“What are they saying?”

Ben leans closer and whispers, “They think we’re...you know.”

Hux shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

“They think we’re together. Like, _together_ together.”

“Oh,” Hux says.

Ben closes his locker and Hux follows him down the hall. People go quiet as they pass. All eyes fall heavy on them.

“Does that bother you?” Hux asks. He hears a girl whisper something like _—bet they’re fucking_.

“No. You?”

Hux thinks about it. “No.”

At least, it doesn’t bother him until Jimmy and Brett—sans Finn, suspiciously—toss him in a dumpster while he’s waiting for the bus. Hux doesn’t mention it to Ben. He doesn’t mention how often he gets shoved against lockers when Ben isn’t around. Or when somebody trips him as he goes to turn in his history test. Or when somebody dumps the entire contents of his bookbag on the ground between classes.

Jimmy and Brett corner him after school and rough him up. They give Hux a black eye that he takes home, where his father grunts something about how he probably deserved it. The next day at school, Ben sees it and holds Hux’s face between his hands. Hux is beginning to see how people get the wrong idea about them.

“Who did this to you?” Ben demands.

Hux shrugs him off and walks past him. “It’s nothing.”

“I’ll kill them,” Ben says when he catches up.

“You’ll lose your scholarship.”

“I don’t care.”

“Just leave it alone. The year is almost over.”

He has bigger problems than some rumors and obnoxious bullying. If he wants to see Ben at all this summer, he needs to buy a bike.

♠

The last Quarters meeting of the year. Hux decides to pull the plug on his long con at the same time Finn drops a pile of ones on the table. “I’m buying in,” he says. Hux nods and takes out his own wallet. The table is chosen based on anyone with enough cash on them to play. He glances to the back of the packed room—Jimmy and Brett are there, threatening gaze falling on him.

Hux busts on the first two hands, wins every round thereafter. The room grows silent except for Hux and the other players tapping the table when they want to hit. The other players zero out and drop, until only Hux, Finn, and the dealer remain. Hux is up over two hundred dollars; Finn is down to ten. Hux could drop out right now and take his winnings, but the way Finn is looking at him, the daring glare in his eyes makes Hux want to clean him out. For stalking Quarters. For starting the rumors. For putting Jimmy and Brett on his tail.

Finn pauses on the next hand and stares Hux down.

“What is your _problem_?” Hux asks. Movement in the corner of his vision catches his attention. He looks toward the front door to see Ben inching his way in the room, wearing his dusty baseball uniform and covered in sweat. He settles near the back a few feet from Jimmy and Brett, almost a head taller than everyone else.

“You cheat,” Finn replies. “I see you counting.”

The room falls completely silent.

“It’s my game," Hux says. "My rules. Anyone wants to count, they can.”

Finn grabs Hux by the arm and yanks the ace out of his sleeve. He tosses it on the table.

“How many times you pull this?” Finn asks. “Were you gonna pull it today? Wipe everyone clean?”

It might be in his head, but it feels like the room is closing in on him. Voices are murmuring, building in volume, until someone shouts, “Cheater!” Another person adds, “He’s been conning us out of money this whole time!” The room explodes in a flurry of angry voices.

Before Hux can react, Ben pushes through the crowd, drags Hux off the stool and out the door. “My cards!” Hux says, forgetting he’d also lost several hundred dollars. The cards are worth more than money.

Ben pulls him by the hand down the hallway. Dozens of pairs of feet chase after them. “We’ll come back for them.”

They turn a corner and Hux slips on the tile. They keep running. Hux can see the exit at the end of the hall. When they reach it, Ben pushes through the doors and hurries in the direction of his house, through a field behind the school. Hux can’t keep up. A stitch weaves into his stomach. His lungs burn and his legs ache.

He sees movement at the edge of his vision, two hulking figures rushing toward him. He gets tackled to the ground, wind knocked out of him, and can hear Ben shout, “Hux!”

Jimmy or Brett, by the size. He can’t tell with his arms up in front of his face, which does nothing to stop the toe of a boot to his stomach. Jimmy, he thinks. Hux heaves. The pain is horribly familiar, except instead of calling him a runt and insulting his mother, Jimmy calls him a _goddamn cheating faggot_.

Jimmy straddles Hux’s hips and pull his arms away from his face. Hux takes a fist to the cheekbone, another to the jaw. His vision blurs. He doesn’t know if he’s struggling or fighting back; all he can hear is his blood rushing in his ears.

Strong arms pick Jimmy off of Hux and throw him. When he lands, Hux can see his head bounce off the ground, then again when Ben’s fist sails into his face. Jimmy's eyes go dull and unseeing. Ben has him by the front of the shirt, knee on his chest, wailing on him.

Hux sits up to see Brett unconscious several feet away. The kids from Quarters have finally reached them, make a wide circle and watch Ben completely lose his shit. Finn parts the crowd and tries to pull Ben off.

“He’s down, man!” Finn shouts. “Let him go!”

Ben twists around and socks Finn across the jaw. Finn reels back a step, and then lunges forward, grapples Ben onto the grass. Hux makes it to his feet to stop the fight, but the ground starts spinning. He can only take one step forward before he falls to his knees and clutches his stomach. Everyone cheers Finn on.

Mr. Kenobi and a guy Hux recognizes as Ben’s baseball coach rush out to the field. Mr. Kenobi yells, “Enough!” and pulls Finn away from Ben. Coach drags Ben to his feet and puts him in a headlock. Blood streams down Ben’s face; there’s a dead look in his eyes, like an animal. Like he’d kill Finn if he could.

“You did this!” Ben screams at Finn. “You started the rumors! You busted us! You ruined everything!” He struggles against Coach’s grip to no avail.

Mr. Kenobi tells a girl in the crowd, “Call 911.” He turns his attention to Coach. “Take him to my office.” And then nods to Hux. “You too.”

♠

Hux lies alone on the cot in the nurse’s office waiting for his fate. Ben comes in with an icepack and closes the door, crawls beside Hux like they used to in bed. He presses his forehead to Hux’s, the tips of their noses. The room smells like copper and sweat and dirt. Hux is having trouble breathing and his eyes sting from tears.

“I’m sorry,” Hux says. His voice wavers. He takes in a shuddering breath. “This is my fault. I shouldn’t have upped the ante. I shouldn’t have let Finn play. I couldn’t—” Hux swallows. He sounds like a child. He still is a child, even though he doesn’t feel like one. “I couldn’t stand the thought of spending a whole summer away from you.”

“Don’t cry.” Ben wipes a tear away with his thumb. “We’ll be okay. We’ll figure it out.”

“You almost killed them,” Hux says. He thinks about the way Jimmy’s head bounced off the ground. How Ben didn’t stop punching him even after he’d been knocked out. If they had been on asphalt, Jimmy would be dead. Hux clutches the bloodied shirt of Ben’s uniform in his hands.

Ben runs his fingers through Hux’s hair. “They hurt you,” he says, as if that’s an explanation, a good enough reason to kill someone.

“We can’t do this anymore.”

“What?”

He pulls Ben closer. “This. You have too much going for you. You have too much to lose.” Their string is short, but it’s never short enough. It can never get them close enough to satisfy Hux. “You can’t risk it for me.”

“I don’t care,” Ben whispers. His lips brush against Hux’s. “None of it is worth it without you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gay slurs here on out, as was the sad reality of midwestern suburbia in the 90s.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings in end note.

The consequences are worse than Hux could have imagined. Jimmy spent the night in the ER with a severe concussion. Brett broke two ribs and his nose. Ben fractured his pinky. Hux only had some minor scrapes and bruises.

Ben gets kicked off the baseball team and suspended the rest of the school year. Even though Quarters was all Hux’s idea, Ben takes half the blame for it. Mr. Solo is livid, not so much for the gambling or the violence, but for _losing your golden goddamn ticket_ , which Hux thinks means his baseball scholarship. He grounds Ben for the whole summer, then puts Rey and Grandma Padme on babysitting duty so he can’t sneak out.

Hux’s dad sits idly through the whole meeting with Mr. Kenobi and the principal, nodding slowly and grunting. The principal says a lot about boys being boys and how important the football team is to the school. They make Hux promise to shut down Quarters and, in exchange for his complacency, he only gets suspended instead of expelled.

When they get in the truck, his dad asks, “How much money you make?”

“Couple hundred,” Hux replies. “Lost it all though.”

“Damn shame,” is all his dad says, and turns the engine.

Hux doesn’t get his cards back.

♠

The following weeks are some of the worst of Hux’s existence. Ben’s dad won’t let him use the phone, so they can’t even talk. It’s the longest Hux has gone without talking to Ben in over half his life. Hux’s dad keeps him busy with chores, drags him out to the landfill to look for aluminum and other junk, makes him go through all the neighbors’ recycling bins for cans. He has to cook every night and wash all the dishes and sometimes roll his stepmom onto her side when she passes out drunk on the couch so she won’t choke and die on her own sick. Not that Hux cares, but she pulls in more money from hosting Bingo at the VFW than his dad does at the GM plant, and if she dies Hux will probably end up in foster care.

He needs a bike.

First, he asks his dad for one for his birthday. The last time he asked for a bike didn’t end well, and he imagines this won’t either.

“When’s your birthday?” his dad asks. He’d dragged Hux down to the nice neighborhood where he tests the door handles of cars and steals whatever’s lying around in them. Last week he found a pair of Raybans, which he’s currently wearing, even though it’s nighttime and his ears are too crooked to hold them evenly on his nose.

“June third,” Hux says.

“No can do, bud-dy.” They’ve been watching a lot Pauly Shore movies.

“Why not?”

“You know Powerball’s up to fifty million, right?” He opens the door of an Audi and gets in the driver’s seat. The house it belongs to is dark, and the street lamps don’t come out this far. He pulls down the visor. “Gotta focus on the big picture, son. That’s called an investment.”

♠

After Hux’s stepmom passes out around eight, his dad usually leaves the house for a few hours. Not every night, but close. He comes back red in the face and smelling like a locker room. Hux has one roll of film left and twenty dollars he’d saved for emergencies.

Hux goes to bed one night—fully clothed, camera in hand—and waits for his dad to turn off the TV in the living room. When he hears the creak of the recliner, he climbs out his window, props a branch into it so he can get back in. It’s an easier feat than at his old apartment since the house is just the one story. He hits wood chips and runs to his dad’s truck, just as he can hear the back door opening. Then he climbs into the truck bed between two trash bags and a lawn mower poorly tethered down and lies on his back.

Hux had to take sex ed a few months ago, and his dad lets him watch the HBO they steal from the cable box outside. He knows things now. Enough, anyway.

The ridges of the truck bed dig into his back. Every bump jars him. The lawn mower almost runs over his leg, but eventually the truck stops and Hux waits until his dad is out of the cab and his footsteps have disappeared. He sits up enough to peer through the windshield. They’re at a motel off Route 40. The sign is flickering pink neon and reads _Dixie Drive Motel_ and below it says _Cable TV_ and _Hourly Rates!_

Hux watches as his dad takes a woman into room 7A. He waits and waits and waits, then grips his camera tight and makes his move.

♠

“Can I have a bike?” Hux asks his dad again, just in case.

His dad is at the dining table reading a copy of yesterday’s newspaper he stole off the neighbor’s porch. “No can do,” he says. He turns the page. He's only reading the funnies.

Hux pulls the pictures from behind his back and drops them on the table.

“What’re these?” his dad asks.

Hux doesn’t say anything.

His dad picks them up with a wary look at Hux. His expression doesn’t change as he rotates through them.

“You can keep those,” Hux says. He heard someone say it on TV once. “I’ve hidden the negatives.”

His dad tosses the pictures down, looks him dead in the eye and says, “You know I dragged your mama to an abortion clinic. Was gonna pay for the whole procedure and everything. Take her out for ice cream after. Treat her real nice.” He licks across his upper teeth thoughtfully. “She wouldn’t do it.”

Hux can feel the blood drain from his face, but he doesn’t waiver, doesn’t flinch. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Nothing much,” his dad replies. “Just looking at you, seeing her stubbornness in you. Makes me wish I’d knocked her out and done it myself.”

The next morning, Hux has a brand new bicycle waiting for him in the garage.

♠

At nightfall, Hux bikes all the way to Ben’s. Ben taught him how to ride a bike when he was eight, but he hasn’t had much practice, and it takes him the entire trip to stop wobbling. He has to cross highways and go down roads with no sidewalks. Cars honk at him and he realizes he’s on the wrong side of the street. At one point he hits a rock and falls, rips open his jeans and scrapes up his knee. He doesn’t think anything of it.

It takes him almost an hour, but he gets to Ben’s house and hides his bike behind some bushes. He’s climbed into Ben’s bedroom before, but he hates it, because Ben’s room is in the attic, and he lives in a three-story house. Climbing up involves an elaborate scheme of getting onto the neighbor’s slightly lower roof and then jumping over to the Solos’, then hanging on for dear life until Ben opens the window.

But Hux does all of these things, and patiently clings onto the gutter with his body pressed against the siding. He taps at the window as loudly as he dares.

It takes a minute but Ben opens it and sticks his head out. His hair is all mussed from sleep and he looks confused. “Hux? God, get in here.” He reaches out to take Hux’s hand and pulls him into the room.

Once Hux is inside, Ben asks in a hushed whisper, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Hux collapses in front of the box fan. From the floor, he replies, “You know. In the neighborhood. Thought I’d drop by.”

“Did you walk? Wouldn’t that take, like, three hours?” Ben sits on his heels beside him, naked except for a pair of boxers. He’s already looking at Hux’s scraped up knee, pulling a first aid kit from under his bed. His room is only slightly cooler than outside.

“I rode my bike.”

“You don’t have a bike,” he says as he pulls supplies out of the kit.

“My dad bought me one.”

“You’re a terrible liar.” Ben soaks a cotton ball with iodine and dabs at Hux’s knee.

Hux’s hisses in pain and pulls his leg away.

“Don’t be a baby,” Ben says, grabbing his leg back and draping it across his lap.

“I blackmailed him into buying me one,” Hux admits.

“How?” Ben discards the bloody cotton ball and picks up a band-aid.

“I tailed him to a motel and took pictures of him fucking a whore.”

When Ben doesn’t reply, Hux lifts his head. Ben is staring at him in a way Hux has never seen before, a combination of incredulity and awe. The band-aid is still clutched in his hand. “You’re not kidding.”

“Why would I be kidding?”

“Because that’s…” Ben unwraps the band-aid and sticks it on Hux’s knee. “So fucking badass.”

Hux sits up. “It is?”

“Hell yeah it is.” He pauses, and adds with a note of disbelief, “You did all that for me? Just to see me?”

Hux doesn’t understand. “Of course.”

A moment passes between them, silent but for the crickets and frogs and cicadas outside. The hum of the fan. Ben leans down and kisses Hux’s knee, like his mom used to. “I missed you,” he says.

“I missed you too,” Hux replies.

♠

Summer gets easier after that. Hux comes home once a day to do his chores while his dad is at work and his stepmom is sleeping off her hangover, then leaves again. Ben always says, “I’ll see you tomorrow,” even though Hux will be back in three hours. They spend all their time in Ben’s room. Talking. Playing games. Lying around. Hours and hours of nothing but each other’s company.

It’s better than it was, but it’s not the same as other summers. Hux can feel Ben’s overwhelming sadness that he doesn’t talk about. His cabin fever. His father’s seemingly unwavering and newfound disdain for him. No ball games, no cookouts, no fireworks, no swimming. No catching fireflies in little jars and letting them go. The only thing his dad will let him do is go on his morning runs to keep him in shape. A boy defined by the immense breadth of his energy and personality confined to a single room. It’s the worst kind of torture.

Hux teaches Ben how to play chess. Ben isn’t any good at it because he can only think one or two moves ahead, and his feelings get hurt when Hux takes his pieces. Hux keeps nearly all possible moves in his head so he ends up choosing a bad one or an obvious one every third turn or so, and it levels the game a bit. Ben wins enough that he thinks he’s gotten good at it.

The steps to Ben’s bedroom creak loudly, enough to signal the arrival of one of Ben’s babysitters. Hux has enough time to hide in the closet or under the bed. Rey usually just looks in to make sure he’s still there, doesn’t say a word, and closes the door again. Grandma Padme brings food, books to read, games to play. She always drops off trays with two sandwiches, two bowls of soup, two lemonades, or entire plates of cookies, and says, “You know, boys your age have to eat so much to keep up with your metabolism,” and pointedly avoids looking in the direction of the closet as she leaves.

It may not be like other summers, but it’s good enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Referenced abuse/forced abortion.


	10. Chapter 10

Hux’s dad leaves a list of chores every day on the fridge, underneath a churchkey magnet. Today Hux left Ben’s house too late because Mr. Solo was mowing the lawn, and his list of chores was longer than he expected, so he ends up running into his dad—drunk, home from a concert he tailgated instead of buying tickets for. Hux knows this because his dad rambles on about it while chugging another beer. His stepmom is snoring on the couch.

Hux finishes replacing the trash can liner, shoulders his bag and heads toward the door.

“Where y’think you’re going?” his dad slurs.

Hux doesn’t bother turning around. “Where I always go. Ben’s.”

“Ain’t it weird, how close you two are. Unnatural,” he mutters. “Something going on I should know about?”

Hux finally turns around and takes the bait. “What does that mean?”

“Y’know what it means.”

“I’m only fifteen.”

His dad lets out a dirty laugh. “That’s fifteen years nobody’s bothered to beat the queer outta you.”

Hux ignores him. When he reaches the door, his dad adds, “I find out you’re limp-wristing it, you bet your ass I’m sending you to military school. Ain’t no son of mine gonna fag up my house.”

“He’s my best friend,” Hux says.

“Uh huh.”

Hux slams the door when he leaves.

♠

Ben moves his knight. Hux almost sighs, then takes a rook with his bishop, and Ben goes, “I didn’t even see that.”

“Because you’re only looking at your knights, and you never move your queen.”

“She’s special. I don’t want to risk her.”

“She’s the most powerful piece on the board. You need to prioritize your players and strategize. Don’t play defensively, force me to move.”

So Ben moves his queen, right in the path of Hux’s rook, just to take a pawn. Hux lets his sigh escape this time.

“What’s your problem?” Ben asks.

“Nothing,” Hux mutters, and takes Ben’s queen. He’s won five games in a row because he doesn’t feel like losing. “Check.”

Ben moves his king one space to the left instead of taking Hux’s offending rook with a bishop that hasn’t yet moved. Hux wants to scream.

“Hey,” Ben says. He reaches out to take Hux’s hand. “What’s wrong?”

Hux yanks his hand away. He moves his queen and says, “Checkmate.”

This is the point where Ben always says, _No way_ , and spends five minutes trying to find a way out. Instead he doesn’t even look at the board, just stares at Hux and says, “Hux.”

“What?”

“You’re grumpy.”

“I’m not grumpy.”

“You haven’t let me win once all night.”

Hux swallows. “I don’t—I don’t let you win.”

“You do. And that’s fine. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

Hux clears the board and starts putting the chess pieces away in the little foam slots. He can’t look at Ben when he asks, “We’re not...normal, are we?” He thumbs over the curve of the knight. “Jimmy and Brett were right about us. We’re fags. Freaks.”

“Whoa,” Ben says. “Where did this come from? Since when do you care what anyone thinks?”

“My dad told me that if he caught me _limp-wristing it_ he’d send me to military school.”

“Oh.”

They put the pieces away in tense silence. “So are you?” Hux asks. It comes out more accusatory than he intended.

“Am I what?”

“A fag.”

“I don’t like that word.”

“What word do you prefer?”

“I don’t know, but not that one.”

“So you are.”

Ben levels a glare at him. “We already talked about this. I thought you were the same thing I am.”

“I’m not,” Hux says. He doesn’t mean it. He doesn’t know what he means.

“Then what are you?”

“Whatever I’m supposed to be.”

Ben closes the chessboard and stands. “You’re _supposed_ to be whatever you want to be. And I thought you wanted to be with me.”

Hux would get up from the floor but he can’t move. The world feels like it’s spinning. He manages, “I do.”

“So fuck what your dad says. Fuck Jimmy and Brett. Fuck everyone who uses that awful word against us for whatever we are. We don’t need to be what they think we should be.”

“You believe that?”

“Of course I do.” Ben holds out his hand. “I’d rather be a freak with you than a normal person without you.”

Hux takes it and stands, and Ben pulls him in, lets Hux bury his face in his neck and just breathe for a minute. “I wanna go to bed,” he says.

“Okay,” Ben says, “let’s go to bed.”

♠

It was inevitable, Hux thinks. Ms. Organa isn’t home very often, but when she is, the house becomes a whirlwind of chaos. She tells Rey to clean this and that as soon as possible. She asks why they have so many boxes of fruit roll-ups. She fights with Grandma Padme about things Hux has never understood, and they throw around phrases like _medical power of attorney_ and _primary beneficiary_ , along with a lot of commentary on President Clinton and some woman named Monica. She frequently storms into Ben’s room unannounced with whatever reason she can come up with.

So when Hux hides in the closet, and she barges in with a fresh pile of laundry to hang up (Grandma Padme usually leaves it on the top step), she finds Hux hiding and says, “You’ve gotta be kidding me.” Then she screams, “Han!”

Hux has witnessed Ben fight with his parents a number of times, but this is by far the worst. He’s sitting by the closed door of Ben’s room, knees tucked to his chest, while Ben and his parents scream at each other in the hallway.

He hears Mr. Solo say, “None of this would be a problem if you’d watched your goddamn temper. You were free sailing, kid, and you fucked it up.”

Ben says, “My best friend was getting assaulted. What did you expect me to do?”

“Have a lick of sense, that’s what. Get a teacher. And christ, never get involved with gamblers.”

Ms. Organa says, somewhat disdainfully, “That trait’s genetic.”

“Hey,” Mr. Solo replies.

“What were you doing at my age, Dad?” Ben asks. “Dealing weed under the football stands with Chewie? Getting straight Ds so you could grow up to be an all-star trucker? Really great role model. No wonder I’m doing so well.”

“Ben!” Ms. Organa shouts.

“I want you to do better than me,” Han says, “that’s why I push you so hard. You’re better than the shit I got into. You have everything going for you. You’re smart, you’re talented, you’re a hard worker. You had a chance to be something great. You blew it.”

“So the second I screw up, the second I don’t bend to your will, you lock me up and take me away from everything.”

“You’re lucky that’s all I did. You’re two inches away from getting shipped off to DC. Threw your whole life away over some greedy, snot-nosed kid that got in over his head.”

“Don’t talk about Hux like that,” Ben says.

“He’s been eating my food and living in my house for who-knows-how-long. I’ll talk about him however I want to talk about him. He’s a troublemaker. A shit-for-brains—”

“Dad…” Ben warns.

“Honey,” Ms. Organa says.

“—no good, mooching puppy dog _runt_ looking for a handout from you. And you can do better—”

There’s a loud _thunk_ and Ms. Organa screams, “Benjamin!” and Mr. Solo says something Hux can’t hear, and then they’re all shouting at each other, and there’s more thumping and then a crash.

Hux curls into himself. His tears soak the knees of his jeans. Part of him thinks he should leave and not come back, but part of him thinks that if the situation were reversed, Ben wouldn’t run away. He’d stay here until Hux came back. So Hux stays.

Mr. Solo shouts, “Get out of my fucking sight!” and a moment later, Ben storms into his bedroom. Hux stands from his place on the floor and wipes his eyes.

Ben picks up his baseball glove and throws it across the room. It knocks over his entire trophy shelf. He picks up the wicker chair from his desk and throws it to the opposite corner. His bookshelf topples over; the chair leg breaks. “I’m gonna kill him,” Ben says. He picks up a trophy and wrenches off the baseball player at the top, throws it to the ground.

“You’re not gonna kill your dad,” Hux says.

“I will. I swear to god I will. One day I’m gonna watch the sight leave his eyes and I’m not gonna feel a goddamn thing.” He throws more things. His chest heaves and furious noises turn into sobs.

Eventually he exhausts himself and slumps onto the floor by his bed. Hux sits next to him.

Ben leans into him. Hux holds him, puts his chin on the top of Ben’s head, rubs his back. Things his mom used to do. When his breathing evens out, Ben says, “Let’s leave.”

“Where?”

Ben sits up and looks at him. His eyes are wild, glassy. “Anywhere. Let’s run away. We can live in the woods behind your old apartment. We’ll buy a tent. Apply for emapinsation.”

“Emancipation. We need money and a place to live for that,” Hux says. He already looked into it.

“So we’ll start up Quarters again. At the VFW or something.”

“Definitely illegal.”

Ben buries his face in his hands. “I gotta get out of here, Hux.”

“I know.”

“You’re so smart, and you’re good at so many things. I’m only good at sports and doing what people tell me to do. And now I don’t have anything. It’s all gone. I’m useless.”

“You're not useless,” Hux says, and quieter: "I'm sorry I caused all this."

“It’s not your fault.”

Hux takes Ben’s hand and holds it. They stay silent for a long time, and the air around them calms. “What did your dad mean when he said he’s gonna ship you off to DC?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Tell me.”

“If my mom gets elected," Ben begins, "she’ll be spending a lot of time there, buying a house and stuff. They want me to move with her and go to another school, get on another baseball team. My dad knows the coach out there.” He pulls in a shuddering breath. His voice cracks a little. “I told them I didn’t want to leave you.”

“But?”

Ben wipes his eyes. “I hit my dad. I beat him, just now. I could have killed him. He said it was the last straw. If she wins the election they’re gonna make me move.”


	11. Chapter 11

Ben’s parents tighten their restrictions on him. They say they’ll call the police if they find Hux in the house again, that Ben can only go downstairs to use the bathroom and eat dinner. Hux thinks Grandma Padme must have intervened because one morning she waits for Hux by the window in Ben’s bedroom while he’s in the shower, gives Hux a key and tells him to use the front door from now on. 

One night at the tail end of summer—Ms. Organa in DC, Mr. Solo on a long haul—Hux helps Grandma Padme fix dinner, and gets up the courage to ask why she likes him so much when no one else does.

“I don’t believe anyone should have to hide who they love,” she says. “No matter how much time you spend with someone, it’ll never be enough.”

Sophomore year begins. Hux gets a few questions about Quarters but tells everyone they’re not playing anymore. The favors stop and so do the false friendships he built, but it’s okay because Ben doesn’t have baseball, which leaves their afternoons and evenings free to do homework together. 

Brett sees Hux in the hallway one day and mutters  _ fuckin’ fairy _ but Finn shoves him against a locker and tells him to mind his own damn business. Hux meets Finn’s gaze and they nod at each other as they pass. 

They don’t have gym class this year, so Hux doesn’t worry about the locker room anymore. He still thinks about Ben more often than he should—the fantasies and daydreams get more elaborate, more vivid. He can hardly look at Ben without imagining kissing his stupid grin off his face. Sometimes Ben looks back and Hux swears he’s thinking the same thing, because his eyes go a little wide like he’s been caught and his face turns red and he looks away. 

Hux sees his classmates pair up and hold hands down the hallway, boys kissing girls against the lockers, everybody going out on dates now that some people can drive. Last year Hux was so into Quarters he didn’t pay any attention to that kind of thing, but now it’s all he can see. Whenever a couple walks down the hallway holding hands, his own hand itches to grab Ben’s. He sometimes sees Ben’s hand twitch too, but they both know better now. 

Ben tests for his license on his sixteenth birthday and passes with flying colors. Grandma Padme lets him pick up Hux on the way back from the DMV and they go to Pizza Hut in celebration. His parents are still too mad at him to buy him a car, but Grandma Padme lets him drive her van. It’s a blessing and a curse: they can go wherever they want now, at least when Ben’s parents are out of town, but only after they’re done running a million errands. Rey needs to go to soccer practice, or Jessica’s house, or Girl Scouts. Grandma Padme needs a gallon of milk for dinner. The cat needs to go to the vet. But it’s worth it for buying late-night discounted pumpkin pie from the bakery and eating it straight from the tin. Holding hands between seats where nobody can see them. Lying back and watching the stars through the moonroof while they listen to Hux’s mixtapes.

Mid-October, Hux starts seeing signs all over:  _ ORGANA FOR SENATE _ . She’s on TV commercials now too, billboards, the radio. Ben’s house is always full of people in suits who don’t acknowledge him at all. He finds Grandma Padme smoking on the back porch one day and she tells him to keep it secret. Then she blows out a cloud of smoke and says, “Luke had the right idea.” 

Later Hux asks Ben what she means, and he tells him his uncle is something called a communist so he left the country a long time ago and hasn’t been back since, and that Grandma Padme used to be a political activist. Grandpa Anakin was a military general and they met at a Vietnam War protest. “He had her arrested or something,” Ben says. “And then they got married, but they had to keep it a secret for a long time. She says it’s the greatest love story ever told.”

♠

An Indian summer in the middle of October. They’re washing all three family cars, but Hux doesn’t mind because Ben is in his swim trunks and all his muscles flex when he runs the sponge over the car hood. It reminds Hux a lot of the dirty posters hanging up in his dad’s garage, except Hux doesn’t like them nearly as much. 

Hux asks, “Do you think your mom will get elected?” because it’s better than asking,  _ Do you think you’ll have to move?  _ He pretends he doesn’t think about it as often as he actually does.

“Have you met my mom?” Ben says. “She’s nuts. Who in their right mind would vote for her?” 

Hux stands from where he’d been washing a wheel, and is met with a stream of cold hose water right to his chest. He gasps and Ben cackles. He’s soaked down to his bones, so he takes his sponge out of his bucket and chucks it at Ben’s head. It hits him dead in the face and Ben yelps, and they proceed to chase each other around the car splashing each other and screaming.

♠

Election day. Hux’s school holds its own student election and he breaks his pencil filling in the _Binks for Senate_ bubble. Despite Ben’s assuredness that his mom won’t win, they barely talk all day, a dark cloud over them following around from class to class. Their classmates part in the hallway to give them room, whispering as they pass about Ben’s mom, what the election will do to their  _ friendship _ . All the things Hux and Ben are thinking but not saying aloud.

Hux gets home. His father is huddled stupidly around the computer monitor in the living room, points at the screen and says, “Your boyfriend’s mom’s pulling ahead.”

Hux ignores him and turns on the TV, sits on the couch to watch the election coverage. Most of it focuses on Clinton and Dole but a ribbon at the bottom of the screen updates congressional elections. The polls close. Hours pass. Indiana scrolls by, and Hux’s heart stops.

_ Leia Organa (D), 53% _

“Would ya look at that,” Hux’s dad says with a raspy laugh. He keeps laughing even as Hux stands from the couch, crosses the room, reaches behind the desk, and yanks out the ethernet cable from the back of the computer. “Hey! I was on the web!”

Hux takes the cordless phone from its cradle and goes into his room. He dials Ben’s number by heart. 

“Hello?” Rey answers. He can barely hear her over the celebratory noise in the background.

“It’s me,” Hux says.

“Just a sec.” A clunk of the phone being set on the table. Music starts up. 

“Hey,” Ben says.

“Hey.”

Silence except for the chaos in the background. Finally Hux asks, “What happens now?”

“Moving date is set. First day of Christmas break.”

“So we have a month.”

“Yeah,” Ben says. “A month.”

♠

By some miraculous alignment of sympathy, they spend the month completely free of people bothering them. No rumors. No hushed whispers. No parents irked at their togetherness and trying to pull them apart. Even their teachers let them sit next to each other, partner together for projects. Mr. Kenobi changes Hux’s schedule so they have the same study hall. For everyone to have worked so hard to separate them, knowing it would come to pass has slighted their fury. Hux loathes them all.

They sleep together. They drive to school together. They don’t talk much. Grandma Padme tears up a little when she’s around them. Hux catches her glaring at Ms. Organa, sometimes overhears her pleading on Ben’s behalf to let him stay. All Ms. Organa says is, “We’ve made our decision, Mom. This is the best thing for him.”

♠

Two nights before Ben’s departure. They lie in bed in Ben's room. It’s snowing outside, and they should be sleeping. Ben traces Hux’s profile with his finger, from his hairline, between his eyes, over his nose, lips, chin. Hux swallows. Down his throat. Chest. Belly. Ben stops above the elastic of his sweatpants. He whispers, “Hux?” His nose and lips press against Hux’s neck, not-quite-kisses. He slips his hand under the waistband, just his fingertips grazing the light hair there. “Have you ever wanted…”

Hux wants. He’s never known anything but want. Hunger, thirst, breath, and Ben’s touch. 

He pulls Ben’s hand away and holds it in his own. “We can’t.”

“Why?”

“When you leave…” Hux thinks about the time his dad poured all the booze down the toilet. His stepmom sobbed, screamed, threatened to kill him. Hysterical. Like someone had ripped her soul straight from her body, and she had nothing left. 

The same might happen to Hux, when Ben leaves.

Ben understands. He pulls closer, holds him, slots his knee between Hux’s legs. Hux is hard and so is Ben; they’re used to it now, used to shifting against one another in drowsy half-sleep they don’t mention in the light of day. Never for release.

“I want to remember what you feel like,” Ben says. “I don’t want us to forget this.”

“We won’t,” Hux promises.

♠

Ben’s last day. He’s called out of school early to finish packing his things, and he gives Hux a long look as he leaves the classroom. They agreed that Ben would sneak out to the quarry a couple hours before Ms. Organa had planned to leave.

Hux sits alone at lunch. He can feel the eyes of his peers boring into him. Their ridicule in equal measure to their pity. Their gut-instinct cruelty mixed with a dash of empathy. Conflicted creatures. Petty and obtuse. Hux is not one of them. 

A chair is pulled out beside him and someone sits down. Hux doesn’t look up.

“Hey, so…” Finn says. “I’m sorry about Ben.”

Hux stays silent.

“I just wanted you to know, you know, we’re cool. And if you need anyone—”

“I’m fine,” Hux says.

“Sure, sure.” Finn pauses. Hux can see him fidgeting nervously in his peripheral vision. “It wasn’t me, you know. I want you to know that.”

“What wasn’t you?”

“I didn’t start the rumors.”

Hux glares at him. “Then who did?”

“Ben.” When Hux doesn’t reply, Finn adds, “We were in health class last year. Going over reproduction and all that shit. And Ben—I mean, you could see it on his face. He’d get so mad, we were talking about guys and girls and whatever. How babies are made. And finally one day he asked, ‘What about men who have sex with men?’ Everyone went quiet. But I laughed. I thought it was a joke. I didn’t know he was being real. And everyone else started laughing too. The teacher wouldn’t answer his question. So he kept asking: ‘Why aren’t we talking about AIDS? Why are you excluding us?’ Us. He said ‘us.’ He outed himself, man. Not me.” 

Hux’s stomach churns. He puts down his sandwich. “What about Jimmy and Brett?”

“I told them to leave it alone. I did what I could. They didn’t pull any shit when I was around but I can’t keep my eyes on them forever.”

“And Quarters?”

“Come on, man. You can’t hold that against me. You spent the whole year conning good kids out of money. Not guys like Jimmy and Brett. Kids whose whole lives would turn over if they got caught gambling in high school. I stepped in to shut it down before you got found out and took everyone down with you.”

“We wouldn’t have gotten caught.”

“You would have. I did you a favor.”

“Favor?” Hux asks. His words feel thick in his throat. He sounds far away from himself, like he’s underwater. “You’re the reason Ben is moving away. You caused all of this.”

Finn gives him a pitying look. “I feel bad for you, man. I really do. I don’t know your situation, but I want you to know there’s some good out there. Good people willing to help you.” He stands from the table and shoulders his bag. “You don’t have to hurt people to get what you want.”

♠

Hux rides his bike to the quarry. His only warm item of clothing is a hand-me-down coat from Ben. His shoulders had grown too broad for it, so he gave it to Hux. Hux’s knuckles start to ache from cold on his handlebars. He blinks repeatedly to keep his eyes from freezing. As he passes his old apartment, he spares a glance at the living room window; the light is on. For an instant he thinks his mom is home. 

He drops his bike in front of the woods. Frozen grass and twigs crunch under his shoes. When he reaches the quarry, Ben is already sitting on the shore, knees tucked to his chest. The water has turned to ice, the animals hidden in hibernation. Hux has never felt such silence here.

Ben stands when he approaches. The string is taut, pulls Hux forward until he’s clutching Ben’s coat in his fists and Ben’s arms are around him and everything feels right but it isn’t. 

“This is it,” Hux says. “You leave in the morning.”

“Dawn. The truck is already packed. I’m sleeping on the couch tonight.”

Hux knew he wouldn’t be able to stay over. He’d still held out hope until now. 

“I can’t stay long,” Ben says.

“I know.”

They hold each other. Hux tries to remember this. Ben’s body under his hands. The warmth of his skin. The long summers spent here. The magic rocks. Days and days where the future didn’t matter because the present was too perfect to bother.

Ben inches back. “I’m sorry, Hux. I have to go.”

“Okay.” Hux feels like a child again, petrified into silence, forcibly isolated. He’s lived so long with Ben by his side he thought he’d forgotten this feeling; the loneliness creeps inside of him and makes its home there once more.

“Bye, Hux,” Ben says. He’s never said goodbye before; it’s always been  _ I’ll see you tomorrow.  _

Every step Ben takes pulls at the string, a sharp point emanating from Hux’s chest as it stretches and stretches. Hux wonders how many steps Ben can take before it snaps. 

Ben reaches where the trees meet the shore and stops. Hux watches the set of his shoulders, the rise and fall of a deep breath. Then he turns again to Hux, takes a half dozen long strides until he’s back where he started. Hux holds his breath, lips parted, waiting as Ben searches his eyes. There's a question in his gaze, one he already knows the answer to.

Ben tilts Hux’s chin up and kisses him. 

Hux has never been kissed before. He’d never wanted to kiss anyone but Ben anyway. He runs his hands through Ben’s hair; Ben’s climb under Hux’s shirt, up his bare back. Rough palms and hard calluses. Hux lifts up on his toes. Broad muscles and soft lips. Ben parts Hux’s mouth. Light moans and a sweet tongue. It is not enough, Hux thinks. Grandma Padme was right: it will never be enough. They could live forever like this and it wouldn’t begin to satisfy—an eternity wouldn’t be long enough to express his devotion to Ben.

They don’t have an eternity. They have minutes. 

It will never be enough.

Ben kisses down Hux’s jaw, his neck. “You know, right?” he asks. His voice is low. His words sink into Hux’s skin. “You know what we are.”

Hux nods. He wishes he could have understood sooner. They could have had so much more. 

“And you know…” Ben begins. His hand is massive and warm against Hux’s lower back. His lips graze Hux’s jaw. “You know how I feel about you.”

“Don’t.” The word cracks. Hux swallows. He finds his voice again. “Not yet. This isn’t the end.”

“But—”

“Ben,” Hux pleads. He won’t cry. Not now. “Promise me.”

“Anything.”

“Promise me we’ll find each other again.”

Ben kisses him again. Hard, deep. Hux has known hunger, but not like this. Starvation subdued by a pittance.

It will never be enough.

Ben murmurs against Hux’s lips: “I promise.”


	12. Chapter 12

Hux goes to school. Does his homework. Keeps to himself, out of trouble. Finn is the only one who ever looks him in the eye, long glances as they pass in the hallway. Everyone else remains oblivious to Hux’s existence. Now that a star shortstop isn’t looking at him, Hux is no longer worth looking at.

He calls Grandma Padme. Asks for Ben’s address. She says their mail forwards to a PO Box; Leia wouldn’t give the letters to Ben anyway. “Tell Ben to write to me,” Hux tells her. “I don’t have to write back. I just need to know he’s okay.”

Hux waits. Eats enough to keep him upright, rarely sleeps. He waits. Goes to the junkyard most nights with his dad, doesn’t say a word. He waits. Sits in his room, breaks in a new deck of cards. He waits.

The first letter comes a month later. Hux uses a butter knife to slice the envelope open in a neat line and unfolds the paper with trembling hands. His stepmom snores on the couch. His father changes the channel to a _Cheers_ rerun. 

> _Dear Hux,_
> 
> _I hope you got this ok. I’m sorry it took so long. I’m not as smart as you. My mom has handlers (nannies) up my ass all the time. They follow me everywhere so I can’t just drop a letter in the mail without one of them knowing and telling her about it. We don’t have long distance calling either so I gave this letter to a kid on my team to send you. I don’t know how they all found out what happened on my last team or who blabbed about it but they think I killed someone or something and no one will talk to me._
> 
> _You can’t write back because it won’t get to me but I’m working on asking the kid who dropped this in the mail for me if you can use his address but I think he only sent this because he thought I would hurt him if he didn’t. If you want to tell me anything you can call Grandma Padme or Rey and they’ll tell me because they have long distance. I asked my mom when I could come visit but she told me Rey & Grandma Padme & Dad were planning to come here instead of the other way around. _
> 
> _I miss you. I miss you I miss you I miss you. I wish I was better at writing so I could say more but it’s all I feel & it’s all I think & I’m miserable. I’d give everything I have to come home again. A year & a half. Then I’ll be 18 and I’ll drop out and come get you. We’ll buy a car. Live on the road if we have to. Go wherever we want. Do whatever we want. _
> 
> _You’re in my head all the time telling me I’m an idiot & laughing at my stupid jokes & letting me eat too much of your food. You know what I want to say but I don’t know if you want me to say it so I won’t. I say it to you in my head though. And you say it back. _
> 
> _—Ben_

Hux reads it again. And again. He reads it so many times he memorizes it. The creases of the page grow flimsy after a few days and begin to rip at the edges. He keeps reading it.

♠

“Hello?” Grandma Padme asks.

“Hi, Grandma Padme,” Hux says into the receiver of the cordless. He has ten minutes until his dad kicks him off the phone to use the computer. “It’s Hux.”

“I know,” she says. She sounds amused. “You know, you can call me Padme.”

“Oh. Okay.” Hux pauses. “I was wondering...if maybe you could give Ben a message for me.”

“Of course. Just a sec.”

He listens as she rifles through a drawer. A pen clicks.

“Ready,” she says.

“Just tell him: I’m working on it.”

“You’re working on it?”

“Yeah. He’ll understand.”

Silence while she writes it down.

“Alright,” Hux says. “Thanks...Padme.”

“Sure.”

He’s about to hang up, but she asks, “Hux?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re welcome over for dinner whenever you’d like.”

“But Mr. Solo said—”

“Mr. Solo can bite me.”

Hux laughs for the first time in weeks. “Okay,” he says. “I’ll come over tomorrow.”

♠

Hux lets himself inside Ben’s old house. It smells like spaghetti and garlic bread, worlds better than anything he eats at home. He can’t feel his fingers or the tip of his nose except for the dull ache as they unfreeze. He takes his coat off and puts it on the hook by the door.

“We’re in here, Hux,” Padme calls from the kitchen.

Rey and Poe are studying at the table together. Padme flits about the kitchen. She gestures to a mug of hot chocolate on the counter and says, “That’s for you.”

He takes it, sits down next to Rey. Poe looks at him from across the table and asks, “Did you have to take algebra?”

Hux nods.

Rey adds, “Will you help us with polynomials?”

“Okay.”

They work until dinner is ready. Poe and Rey get Padme up to speed on juicy middle school gossip. Hux finishes his food before everyone else and Padme tells him he can have more, so he does. They keep talking even after their plates are cleared, Padme sipping a glass of red wine, Poe telling them stories. Night falls early. Hux can pretend Ben is just upstairs cleaning his room and he’ll be down soon. He doesn’t want to leave.

Rey and Poe excuse themselves to watch TV. Hux helps Padme with the dishes. “Is Poe over here as much as I was?” he asks her.

“Almost.” She passes him a plate.

He dries it and puts it away. Less than a year ago he had to push up on his toes to reach the top shelf, but not anymore. “But Ben’s parents like him.”

“Poe never organized an underground gambling ring,” Padme says.

“There’s still time.”

She laughs; Hux ignores the bubble of resulting pride. It’s a nice sound, Padme’s laugh, one he doesn’t hear very often.

Once the dishes are done, they end up at the table again, Padme with another glass of wine and Hux with a plate of cookies and a big cup of milk. His dad and stepmom don’t keep sweets in the house because they spend all their money on booze.

Padme says, “You know, Ben reminds me a lot of Anakin.”

Hux can feel a smudge of chocolate on the corner of his mouth. He licks it off and asks, “How?”

“He was a good man put in bad situations.” She swirls her wine. “It changed him, over time.”

“Do you think that would happen to Ben?”

“It can happen to anyone under the right circumstance. You give a boy like Ben something to be proud of and he’ll feel pride. You give him something to kill for and he’ll kill. You give him something to die for and he’ll die.”

The words circle around in Hux’s brain like the wine in Padme’s glass. They don’t settle, just pick uncomfortably at him until he shifts in his seat.

“Ben is...impressionable,” Padme continues. “I know that, his parents know that, and I think you know it, too. He’s an innocent boy with so much compassion, but it’s those kind of men who are capable of immense cruelty. Their sensitivity leads to protectiveness, defensiveness, fear. Anakin was always looking for something...else. Some higher power to help exonerate him from grief.”

Hux thinks back to the magic rocks, the strings. “Did he ever find it?”

“No, but in his pursuit, he destroyed our family. I had a rocky pregnancy with Luke and Leia. Medicine had only advanced so far. Anakin was so convinced I would die in childbirth, and it would somehow be his fault, that he...left.”

“Left?”

“He found some kind of religious leader who told him he could save me from dying, but only if he joined this man’s cult.” Padme gives Hux a look. “Cults were big back then.”

“What did you do?”

“I...have a lot of regrets, now. At the time it made sense. I didn’t have a job or money. My family had disowned me after the first time I got arrested. I did the only thing that made sense to do: I gave Luke and Leia away, and I went to find Anakin.”

They sit in silence as Padme stares at a point in space. Hux wonders if she were younger, or he older, if they would be friends. He wonders if they’re friends anyway. He’s never had a friend besides Ben.

“But you came back, right?” Hux finally asks.

Padme nods. “It took years to find Anakin. Even longer to set him straight. They institutionalized people back then...I couldn’t let that happen to him. We could have come back sooner, but I...I thought they wouldn’t want to know us.” Her voice breaks and a little her chin trembles slightly. “I thought they wouldn’t forgive us.”

Hux reaches out tentatively and holds her hand, like he used to with his mother. She lets him, looks at him with tear-filled eyes and says, “I'm worried about Ben, Hux. There’s so much of Anakin in him. We can’t let him fall prey to the same forces that destroyed Anakin. We can’t let Leia and Han keep taking away the person who keeps him grounded.”

“I know,” Hux says, squeezing her hand. “I’m working on it.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ben's handlers, Artie and Carlton, are R2D2 and C3PO, respectively.

A fist to the jaw. Hux tastes copper. Spits blood on the asphalt.

_“You’re a bright kid,” Mr. Kenobi said. “Your homework—when you bother turning it in—is all good. You flunk the tests. You don’t participate in projects. You refuse to do any assignments. At this rate, you’ll get held back a year. I know you, Hux. I know you can do better than this.”_

A punch to the gut. Hux doubles over. Heaves. Beefy strong hands yank him back up.

_Hux shrugged. “Maybe I’m not as bright as you think.”_

A left hook, across his cheek this time. Hux’s head whips to the side.

_“I think you’re planning something. I think you have something up your sleeve.”_

Jimmy hesitates. Brett keeps glancing nervously around the corner of the dumpster.

_“I do what I can with the resources I’m given,” Hux replied._

“Another,” Hux slurs. Blood drips down his temple, his chin. The edges of his vision warp.

_“That’s what I’m afraid of.”_

“No, man,” Jimmy says. “You’ve had enough.”

“I said, _another_ ,” Hux says through gritted teeth. He grabs the front of Jimmy’s shirt, wrinkles it in his fist. He spits blood onto Jimmy’s face. “Hit. Me.”

Jimmy flinches and raises his hands in surrender. “I can’t get busted again. My mom said she’d start homeschooling me.”

“Come on, dude,” Brett says to Jimmy. “We’re gonna get caught.”

“Fucking cowards.” Hux reaches in his pocket and takes out a folded ten dollar bill. His thumb leaves a bloody print on the note.

Jimmy inches backwards. “Keep your freak money. I don’t want it anymore.”

They run off. Hux slumps against the dumpster. Slides down until he hits the ground. He reaches in his pocket for a cigarette, his lighter. The butt of it stings his split lip. He lights it and takes a long drag.

♠

Mr. Kenobi’s office again. Hux has an ice pack on his cheek. He’s alone but he can hear Mr. Kenobi talking to his dad outside the door. When the handle rattles, he slumps over a little and puts his arm protectively around his ribcage. He doesn’t have to fake the way his breath is ragged and shallow; it hurts to breathe, but he finds an odd comfort in it.

They enter the room and Mr. Kenobi takes a seat behind his desk. Hux’s dad plops down heavily next to Hux. Hux tries not to think of what most parents would do in this situation, what his mother would have done—reach out toward him, console him, maybe cry. Instead his father looks at him with barely held disdain; taking a half-day off from work because his pathetic excuse for a son got pulverized again is nothing more than an inconvenience.

“Hux,” Mr. Kenobi begins. He’s using his soft voice, and it makes Hux wonder if he once had a harder one, what he did to make Uncle Luke to want to flee the country and become a communist. “Can you tell us what happened?”

Hux shakes his head and makes himself smaller. He spent so much time hating himself for how often he cries but it’s useful now. All he has to do is think about the day Quarters got shut down, the fear of Ben losing everything he’d worked for and it being all Hux’s fault. Ben leaving. Knowing Ben is hundreds of miles away, miserable without him. The tears flow easily.

“C’mon, boy,” his dad says. “Spit it out. Let Mr. Casbah do his job so I can get back to work.”

“Kenobi,” Mr. Kenobi says.

“I was—” Hux begins. He takes in a long shuddering breath. “There was a boy. And I—” He gives a wary look to his father, then back down at his shoes and says, “I was f—fell—” He swallows. “Fellating him.”

“You were _what_ ,” his dad says.

Hux gives him a sharp glare and clarifies, “I was sucking his dick.” Then he lets out another cracked sob and adds, “But it was a set-up. I didn’t know. I thought he liked me. But afterward...”

“He hurt you,” Mr. Kenobi concludes.

Hux nods. From his peripheral vision he can see his father turn an ugly shade of eggplant. Mr. Kenobi probably thinks he’s mad about the boys who hurt him, but Hux knows the truth.

“I know you’re probably afraid, but I need you to tell me who did this to you.”

“Jimmy,” Hux says. “Brett was there too. He kept watch so no one would find us. They said...”

“What did they say?” Mr. Kenobi asks.

“They said next time I came onto them, they’d kill me.”

Mr. Kenobi looks at Hux’s dad. “I think it’s time we get the police involv—”

“No police,” he replies. He takes Hux by the upper arm and drags him to standing. “I think we’re done here.”

Mr. Kenobi stands also. “I don’t believe we are. Your son has been assaulted and his life threatened. He needs medical attention—”

“I know what my son needs.”

He drags Hux out of the room. Mr. Kenobi follows, argues some more, but Hux’s dad keeps dragging him, out of the building and into the parking lot. He tosses Hux in his truck and climbs into the driver’s seat, nearly runs Mr. Kenobi over as he peels out of the parking lot. His jaw is clenched and his knuckles are white on the steering wheel. He finally says, “You remember what I told you.”

Hux uses his sleeve to wipe away the fresh blood on his chin. “I’m sorry, refresh my memory?”

“I told you, no fags in my house.”

“That rings a bell. But you said you were going to do something. What was it?”

“Military school. That oughta knock some sense into you.”

“Oh no. What a terrible fate. Whatever shall I do,” Hux says. “I’ve taken the liberty of doing some research on your behalf. I’ve chosen Carida Military Academy in Baltimore. It’s partially funded by the Department of Defense and I qualify for a scholarship to cover the remainder of the tuition. They say they’re willing to take me as early as next month, provided all my paperwork is in order.”

His dad tightens his grip on the steering wheel. “You set this up?”

Hux watches the town pass them by—Dairy Queen, the park, McDonald’s, the library. He knows he’ll never come back to this place, to his old life. It already feels like it belonged to someone else. “I’ve filled out the application. All you have to do is sign, and then my limp wrist and I will be out of your life for good.”

♠

Hux looks toward the register of the one-hour photo. Jeanette is working tonight, a senior at Hux’s high school. She’s popping gum and watching _Friends_ on the nineteen-inch TV behind the counter. Hux opens a five-pack of film and takes one canister out, pockets it. He opens another.

“Hey,” someone says.

Hux jumps and drops the box of film.

Finn leans down and picks it up for him. “You’re stealing now?”

“Will you shut up?” Hux replies in a harsh whisper. He gives another glance toward Jeanette. “This is the first and only time, alright? I’ve been single-handedly keeping this place in business for most of my life. I just need a couple rolls of film before I leave.”

Finn gives him a disdainful look and puts the box back on the shelf. “So the rumors are true. You’re headed to Carida.”

“Yes.”

“All for Ben,” Finn says. The accusation is without judgment, but it still makes Hux shrug his shoulders up defensively.

He changes the subject. “Why are you here?”

“I saw your bike outside. I wanted to come talk to you before you left since you’re not at school anymore.” Finn takes him by the arm and drags him closer to the aisle, out of Jeanette’s view. Hushed, he says, “The police found guns in Jimmy and Brett’s lockers. They both got expelled.”

“How tragic.”

“I don’t know how you did it, and I can’t say I blame you, but you’re messing with some dark forces.”

“Why do you care?”

“I had a friend who went to military school. He was like you, if you catch what I’m saying. It fucked him up. You think Jimmy and Brett are bad, but at least you knew Kenobi had your back. You won’t have anyone there. My friend told me they consider beatings ‘weeding out the weak.’”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Still.” Finn reaches in his back pocket and pulls out a butterfly knife. The handle is wooden and carved with ornate red roses. “I want you to have this. Consider it an olive branch.”

Hux takes it from him. “Where did you get this?”

“My old man. I’ve carried it around most of my life.”

“Why are you giving it to me?”

“I never want a reason to use it. It weighs me down, man. Makes me feel like I’m looking for a fight. I don’t want what happened with Ben to happen again. I’m not like that.”

Hux pushes the button at the bottom and it opens. He flips the handle around in an arc. The roses match up both ways—it’s one of the most beautiful objects Hux has ever held. “Thank you,” he says, unsure how to feel.

“Sure.” Finn thumps Hux on the arm. “Good luck out there.”

Before he makes out of the aisle, Hux asks, “Finn?”

Finn stops. “Yeah?”

“Next year, Ben’s sister Rey and her best friend Poe will be freshmen. Will you…”

“Yeah,” Finn says with a smile he’s never directed at Hux before. “I’ll keep an eye on them.”

♠

Days later, when all the pieces have been set in motion, Hux rides his bike to Padme’s house. She opens the door and says, “Oh my god, Hux. Ben—the other Ben—told me what happened, but I didn’t think it was this bad.”

“I’m fine,” Hux says. “Can I use your phone to call Ben? It’s a bit of an emergency.”

She invites him in, picks up the phone in Leia’s old office and dials eleven digits from memory. Someone picks up on the third ring. “Hi, Carlton, this is Padme. Uh huh. Yes, that’s very—” She rolls her eyes in Hux’s direction and covers the receiver with her hand. Hux can hear the man on the other end continue talking. “One of Ben’s handlers,” she whispers, then says into the receiver, “That’s lovely to hear, I’m so glad your mother is doing better. Can you put Ben on the line for me?”

Hux’s heart is pounding. He can hear Ben come on the phone and say, “Hello?”

“Hey, sweetie,” Padme says. “It’s me. Hold on, okay?” She hands the phone to Hux and adds, “Only a few minutes. I don’t put it past Leia to cancel the long distance plan if she catches us.” Then she winks at him and leaves the room, closing the door behind her.

Hux brings the phone to his ear and says, “Hey.”

“Hux?” Ben asks.

“Yeah.”

“Oh my god, what the hell is going on? Uncle Ben told me you stopped going to school but he wouldn’t tell me anything else. I’ve been out of my mind about it. Are you okay? What happened?”

“I paid Jimmy and Brett to beat the shit out of me, framed it as a hate crime and planted some of my dad’s unregistered guns in their lockers. And I came out to my dad too.”

“What the fuck, Hux.”

“Yeah, I know. But that’s not why I called. I’m leaving soon and I wanted to give you my new address.”

“Leaving?”

“I got into Carida. It’s in Baltimore.”

“But Baltimore is like—”

Hux can’t stifle his grin, even though it threatens to split his lip open again. “A half hour away.”

“Holy shit. _Holy shit_. God, you’re so smart. This is amazing. Oh my god.” Ben laughs in delight, then stops short and asks, “Wait, but if you’re in military school, how are they gonna let you leave?”

“I can only plan so many moves ahead. I’ll figure it out once I get there.”

“Wow, Hux. I can’t believe it. We’re gonna see each other again. Soon.”

“Yeah.”

The line goes silent, until Ben says, “I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” Hux replies. “I’m sorry you’re miserable.”

“I won’t be, now that I know you’re gonna be nearby.”

Hux fishes in his pocket for Carida’s admittance pamphlet. “Let me give you the address of the school.” He rattles it off and Ben writes it down.

“I better get going before my mom asks why I’ve been on the phone so long,” Ben says.

“Okay.”

“Hey, one more thing. Why involve Brett and Jimmy? Why not just out yourself and move on?”

Hux thought it was obvious. “Revenge.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Carida Military Academy is not a real school. I found it on Wookiepedia. 
> 
> I have done all of five minutes of research on military schools (barely enough to know there is a difference between a military school and a military academy, yet I do not employ that difference at all) (actually I think I did more research on 80s daytime television), mostly because it is, in fact, really difficult to wade through the propaganda to figure out what military school life is actually like for queer kids, let alone in 1997. Everything about Carida is totally from my imagination and, as such, I kindly request you suspend your disbelief for the duration of Hux's military education.


	14. Chapter 14

Carida Military Academy’s student population is referred to as a regiment. The regiment is separated into two battalions, underclassmen and upperclassmen. The underclassmen have the west wing; the upperclassmen have the east wing. Each battalion is split into four companies, one for every resident hall. The companies are then split into three platoons, named after a letter in the NATO phonetic alphabet. Cadets of each platoon are grouped into squads of four. Each squad is given a small dormitory, two rooms halved by a shared bathroom.

Hux is an underclassman (S), assigned to resident hall 4, and put into the R platoon. The placard by his door reads: _S - 4 - Romeo - Dopheld Mitaka, Hux O’Connell._ His roommate is a skittish boy who appears to have arrived only a couple weeks before Hux and subsequently took the bottom bunk. The space is six-by-eight with a set of beds and two lockers. Hux brought with him Ben’s coat, two sets of casual wear, a pair of Chuck Taylors, his chess set, box of pictures, camera and the three rolls of film he stole, and two decks of cards—one broken in for magic tricks, one brand new to keep for emergencies. And Finn’s knife, which he keeps in the inner breast pocket of the coat, and was somehow missed by his pat-down entrance search. He managed to pickpocket a twenty dollar bill from his stepmom’s purse before he left, under the guise of a goodbye hug that nearly suffocated him with the stench of alcohol seeping out of her pores.

Hux’s squad leader is a doughy blond boy named Becker whose flat-top is half an inch too tall and the back half an inch too long. Romeo’s rival platoon, aptly Juliett, refer to him as _Flock of Seagulls_ behind his back. Becker is tasked with showing Hux around his first week. He’s not a particularly friendly boy, but he does offer Hux homemade jerky of an unidentifiable meat source every few minutes.

Hux asks Becker, “What about free time?” They’re headed to Naval Science, taught by a retired Admiral Tarkin. The hallways are nothing like those at Hux’s old school—no shoulders bumping, no walking painfully slow behind a horde of girls, no getting trapped in an unmoving moshpit of anxiety-ridden teenagers. There are no lockers, just cement brick walls. No backpacks, everyone carries their books in hand. No gossip or giggling or judgmental staring, everyone talks peaceably among themselves. Hux doesn’t know why Finn had been so worried; he feels completely invisible here.

Becker speaks in loud, declarative sentences like a football referee. “Romeo is assigned a half hour to the mess hall every day at oh-eight, twelve, and seventeen hundred. We eat with Sierra, Tango, and Uniform. After fourteen hundred we have free reign of the resident hall, lounge, library, drill deck, or weight room until lights out at twenty-three hundred.”

“Weekends?” Hux asks.

“Cadets are permitted to leave school grounds with written parental consent. Cadets must otherwise remain on school grounds at all times.”

“What about holidays? Summer break?”

“Carida recognizes all federal holidays and employs a year-round curriculum with four two-week breaks throughout the year and a lowered class load during summer.”

Talking to Becker is a bit like asking a question to an encyclopedia and having it shout a very literal answer back at you. If he’s not actively responding to a direct inquiry, he’s eating jerky and staring into space. “What about phone calls? Long distance?”

“Cadets are permitted to use the payphone located outside the front office.”

“Mail call?”

“Every day at twelve thirty in the mess hall.”

Hux exhales a relieved breath. He can work with this.

♠

Mitaka cries at night. Hux is grateful he only usually sleeps four hours anyway. After lights out, he tends to lie awake and plot his way out of the school. When he gets stuck, he pulls out a notepad from under his pillow and jots down a mental list of information he’ll need, items to research either at the library or by asking around. Currently, his list is: 

  * _A way off campus (obstacles p2, potential solutions p4)_


  * _Money (legal options p6, illegal options p7)_


  * _Two-way communication with Ben (obstacles p8, potential solutions p10)_


  * _Off-campus transportation and sleeping accommodations (all options p12)_



On his third night, Hux is considering blowing his twenty on a commissary flashlight so he can work after dark, when Mitaka starts weeping below him. Hux wants to be irritated, but he understands the feeling too well. If he didn’t have Ben, Hux thinks he would have turned out a bit like Mitaka.

After ten minutes, he hops down from his bunk. Mitaka takes a sharp breath and goes very still, like a rabbit caught by a predator.

“Mitaka,” Hux whispers.

“I’m sorry,” Mitaka says. Hux thinks it’s the first words they’ve ever actually spoken to each other. They’ve only acknowledged one another thus far with shared glances and short nods. “I’ll be quiet.”

“No, it’s alright.” Hux reaches up and takes his deck of cards from under his pillow. “Do you like magic tricks?”

Mitaka sits up and wipes his nose with the back of his hand. “Yeah.”

The moonlight falls through the small window into a dull square on the scuffed linoleum. Hux sits cross-legged on the floor in the small space, so that his back is against the wall. “Would you like to see one?”

It’s dark, but he can catch Mitaka's small nod.

“C’mon,” Hux says, gesturing to the floor space in front of him. “I’ll show you.”

Mitaka crawls out of bed. He can’t be more than a year younger than Hux but he looks like a child, his eyes too big for his face and his features small and pale like a porcelain doll. Hux flips the cards from one hand to the other, back and forth to warm up. Then he cuts the cards with one hand and shuffles them.

“Wow, you’re really good at that,” Mitaka says.

Hux fans the cards out and tells Mitaka, “Pick one. Don’t show it to me.”

Mitaka slides a card out and looks at it. Hux says, “Now put it back.”

He does, and Hux shuffles the cards. Slides them back and forth on the linoleum. Shuffles them again. Flips them from palm to palm. “You probably think I’m going to go fishing for your card in the stack. But see, I’m lazy. It’s late.” He stacks the cards up neatly. “I’d rather the card just come to me.” He flicks the top of the deck and holds it out to Mitaka. “That should do it. Flip the top card.”

Mitaka takes the top card off the deck and turns it over to find the three of clubs. His eyes go wide. “How did you do that?”

“It should be obvious.”

Mitaka’s smile falls into something defensive, like Hux is about to make a jab at him for being too dumb to figure out the trick.

“Magic,” Hux says.

Mitaka beams.

♠

Hux spends most of his time alone. He finds a table in a lonely corner of the library where he takes his chess set and plays against himself. It relaxes him, helps him parse out his thoughts. Cadets walk by him on occasion but otherwise no one pays him any mind.

Except one boy who happens to walk by with increasing frequency. Hux gets a prickle on the back of his neck like he’s being watched. He ignores it.

Then the boy approaches his table and says, “If you need a partner you could just ask.”

“I don’t,” Hux says, and topples the black queen. He doesn’t look up, can only see the boy’s hands gripping the back of the chair.

“You’re new,” he says.

“I am.” Hux lets the black rook take the white knight.

“Students admitted mid-year are usually only here because they’ve done some serious shit.”

Hux stays silent. He takes the white king out of check.

The boy moves the black knight up and to the right. “Checkmate.”

Hux finally looks at him, mouth open to tell him to get lost. The words stop in his throat. The boy is nearly the spitting image of Ben, except his features are smaller, more feminine; his black hair is stick-straight; his skin is darker and smoother; his eyes and nose are proportionate to his face. He’s just as tall as Ben but thinner, and he holds himself differently—loose and relaxed, confident, whereas Ben is all gangly awkwardness and oblivious to his own sense of space. The boy is Ben if Ben were more conventionally attractive. And also way gayer.

Hux’s mind grinds to a complete halt.

“I know, I’m kind of a showstopper,” the boy says with a sly smile. He has dimples.

Hux tears his eyes away and looks back down at the board. “Don’t flatter yourself. You look like someone I know is all.”

“Lucky them.” He holds out his hand to Hux and says, “Christopher Crews. Crews to cadets, Toph to everyone else.”

Hux takes it out of habit. Toph’s handshake feels like a girl’s. His fingers are thin and his skin is soft and Hux pulls away quickly.

“And you are?” Toph asks.

“Not interested,” Hux says, and starts clearing the board. “I need to go.”

“Afraid I’ll win?”

Hux gives him a sharp look. “I have homework.”

“Sure,” Toph says. “This happens a lot, you know. People often get intimidated by my raw sex appeal.”

Hux makes a disgusted noise before he can think better of it. “Are you always this conceited?”

“I save it for special occasions.”

“You’re obnoxious.”

“You’re attractive.”

Hux stops short. Toph offers him another overconfident smile before walking away, calling behind him, “See you around, gingersnap.”

♠

Hux had enrolled in military school prepared for gay insults, gay harassment, gay beatings. But it never occurred to him to prepare for gay flirting. His entire life he’s felt too gay, and now suddenly he doesn’t feel gay _enough_.

He finds a new place to play chess, and is thankful Toph isn’t in any of his classes. He must be an upperclassman.

Hux hops down from his bunk one Saturday to head to the showers. He grabs his toiletry caddy but notices Mitaka still in bed. Normally Mitaka wakes up first, and he’s gotten in the habit of bringing back a clean towel for Hux so they’re not all gone by the time he gets there. Hux figures he’s feeling under the weather and lets him sleep.

The next day, Hux sees a dark shadow at the side of Mitaka’s mouth. He doesn’t ask about it. Then a split lip. Then a black eye. Hux finally corners him and asks, “Who’s doing this to you?”

“Nobody,” Mitaka says, and tries to skirt away.

Hux moves in front of him. “Let me help you.”

“I don’t need help.”

“You obviously do. Who are you trying to protect?”

“Nobody. I can handle myself.”

Hux lets it go. It’s time for mail call anyway, so he heads to the mess and waits by the door for the mail crew. They call out names and finally, blessedly, a cadet announces, “O’Connell!”

“That’s me,” Hux says, and grabs the letter from his hand. Normally he would open it carefully, but it’s been so long since he’s talked to Ben that he doesn’t have the patience to savor it. He sits at an empty table, rips open the envelope, and reads: 

> _Dear Hux,_
> 
> _Sorry this took so long to get to you. The kid on my team refuses to send anything for me anymore so I’ll have to wait until Carlton and Artie (my nannies) are distracted at the grocery store or something to drop it in a mail slot. God I’m so worried about you. How is military school? I know you can’t answer but I’m so curious. Military school seems like something that only exists on TV. I hope it’s not as bad as everyone makes it out to be. I wonder if you’re going to start Quarters again. Military school is usually the place where bad kids go so can you get suspended? Where would you go? Is there detention? Do you get to watch TV? What is there to do for fun? Are the classes harder? Do you have to salute everyone? Do you get to shoot guns? Sorry I’m just curious. You’ll tell me when we figure out how to get you out of there._
> 
> _School sucks and life sucks but you’re only a half hour away and that makes me feel better. I keep thinking about...you know. What happened before I left. I want to do it again. A lot. And other stuff if you want. It’s ok if you don’t. Maybe next time we see each other we can...do stuff. We don’t have to do all the stuff because I don’t know who would...you know. But anyway. One day maybe. When we’ve graduated and we can be together. We’ll have plenty of time to figure it out. Our whole lives if you want._
> 
> _I don’t know if you have access to a long distance phone plan or whatever, but for emergencies, here’s my number. Mom never answers so just tell Carlton or Artie you’re my math tutor or something because I’m failing it anyway._

Ben has his phone number appended to the bottom. Hux is midway through reading the letter again before Toph sits down next to him and says, “Love letter?”

Hux quickly folds it back up. “Get lost.”

“Is it the boy who looks like me? I hope so. We’d make cute babies.”

“That’s not anatomically possible.”

“Not with that attitude.”

Hux glares at him. It takes too long for his brain to recognize the person in front of him isn’t actually Ben. “Why are you doing this?”

Toph shrugs, flippant smile dropping slightly. His chin is propped in his hand and he's sitting too close. He doesn't smell like the plain soap provided to them, but something floral and overdone, like ladies' perfume. “Because you’re like me. Boys like us have to stick together.”

“I’m nothing like you.”

“Honey, you can fool God but you can’t fool me.”

Hux gets up from the table. “Just leave me alone, Crews.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who don't know or may have forgotten, attitudes toward cigarettes used to be way more lax in the 90s because a lot of the tobacco regulations we have today weren't in effect yet. Still, I reiterate: I made up everything about Carida, so I again encourage you to suspend your disbelief. 
> 
> PS Thanks for all the Toph love!

Mitaka takes off his shirt—dark bruises litter his body. Hux catches sight of them before morning drills but doesn’t bother mentioning it anymore. He does however go to Becker and ask, “What’s the school policy on bullying?”

Becker doesn’t reply right away. He stares into the distance and narrows his eyes slightly. “I don’t recall,” he says. “Carida Military Academy’s handbook is available for check-out in the library.”

Hux pulls the handbook. He reads the entire thing in one sitting. The good news is that he no longer needs Becker’s help, because he now has ink and paper that will tell him what Becker would say, in many cases verbatim. The bad news is that it’s shockingly brief; most of the book is dedicated to the school’s lengthy mission statement about honor and achievement. It reads like the pamphlet Hux had found when he first began his military school research. Part of the handbook is devoted to the elaborate organizational structure of the school and how it assists in leadership development. The last third of the book outlines the cadet code of conduct, most of which points to every situation being _at the discretion of Admiral Tarkin._

There is not a single word on violence or bullying. Its absence is so obvious, the paragraph of the mission statement about _survival of the fittest_ and honorable competition so pointed, Hux gets the impression that Finn was right: bullying is, in fact, encouraged.

The handbook also, however, includes a lengthy section about drugs. Bold letters indicate Carida has a zero-tolerance policy toward recreational use, possession, and distribution of any drug not provided by a guardian and administered by a nurse.

He memorizes the passage and puts the book away.

♠

Hux starts tailing Mitaka. It takes two days before he finally sees it—a boy twice Mitaka’s size and probably four years older than him, fist poised above Mitaka’s face. Cadets are walking by them and turn a blind eye. It makes Hux sick.

He misses most of the conversation, but can hear the bigger cadet say, “Three packs.”

“One,” Mitaka replies. “That’s all I can afford. You’ve cleaned me out, okay?”

The cadet open-face slaps Mitaka. Hux’s blood boils. He wishes he were as strong as Ben. Ben could take him easily.

“Mommy dry you out or something?” he asks.

“I told you, I only get a deposit once a month,” Mitaka replies. “Everyone does.”

“And what, you’ve been splurging on yourself? Buying some candy?”

“No, I just—”

The cadet socks Mitaka in the gut. Mitaka heaves; nobody looks over. It takes all of Hux’s willpower not to stop it. Instead, he walks in line with another cadet and asks, “What’s his name?”

“Whose?” the cadet asks.

“The big one beating up the little one.”

“Oh.” The cadet looks back, as if hallway beatings are so regular they don’t warrant a spared glance. “That’s Schmidt. He’s in Bravo.”

“Thanks,” Hux says, and veers off toward the mess.

♠

In a sea of hundreds, it takes Hux all of a minute to locate Toph. He reasons it either has something to do with years of practice spotting Ben in a crowd, or the fact that Toph is sitting on a table instead of in a chair like everyone else.

Hux approaches him and says, “I need to speak with you.”

Toph tears his attention away from his friends and settles it completely and immediately on Hux. “That didn’t take long.” He leans forward and adds, “Don’t worry, I know a place.”

“No, it’s not—” Hux glances at Toph’s friends, who don't seem to be paying them any mind, and whispers as loudly as he dares, “I need to buy marijuana.”

Toph gasps, wide-eyed, hand to his chest. “How _dare_ you think I would disrespect our dear Carida’s code of conduct like that.” He climbs off the table and grabs his books, walks backward through the mess toward the exit. “I am appalled, and—and _offended_ that you would think so little of me.”

Hux follows him.

“I’ll have you know I have _immense_ respect for this institution, gingersnap. And for the sanctity of the human mind.”

Toph leads him to a custodial closet. He flicks on the overhead light bulb and Hux squeezes in behind him. With the door closed, there’s barely enough room for both of them. Becker probably couldn’t fit in here by himself.

Toph puts his books on a shelf and smiles in a lascivious way that stirs something in Hux he would rather ignore. “I really thought our first time here would be used for other purposes.”

“I told you, I’m not interested.”

“You say that, but all I hear is, ‘I’m a filthy liar.’”

“Either sell me some weed or point me in the direction of someone who will.”

Toph’s flirtatious expression turns into reluctant business. “How much do you have?”

“Fifteen.”

“That’ll get you a dime bag of my shittiest supply. But know that I’m cutting you a deal, alright? Because you’re pretty.”

“Whatever you have is fine,” Hux says, pulling a ten and five out of his pocket. He managed to make change with the commissary cashier, who thankfully didn’t ask any questions. “I’m not going to smoke it.”

Toph gives him a long look. “I don’t get a narc vibe from you.”

“I’d never.”

“Do I want to know?”

“No.” Hux holds out the cash.

Toph pulls a hardcover copy of Ronald Reagan’s biography, _An American Life_ _,_  from his stack of books. He opens the cover. The pages have been glued together and a small enclave gutted from the center. Hux can see several plastic baggies, a pipe, and a lighter. He hands Hux one of the littlest baggies and takes the cash.

“If you ever change your mind, let me know.” He offers another dirty smile; it reminds Hux so much of Ben that it makes his heart hurt. “I can show you a good time, red.”

♠

It takes Hux a couple more days to formulate a plan. He goes to the front office and asks if the nurse has received his prescription yet. While the secretary is getting the nurse, Hux rifles through the sign-out sheet to see if Schmidt ever leaves. He finds that Schmidt has been signed out of the school three Saturday mornings in a row.

Leaving campus is an ordeal, Hux has learned, both from watching people exit while trying to figure out how to make it out himself, and from overhearing people complaining about the procedure. Empty pockets, go through scanner, pat down by security. The same procedure coming back in. This is to eliminate theft and control substances coming in. Hux doesn’t want to know how Toph smuggles in weed.

Early Saturday morning, Hux waits in the hallway by the front doors. Schmidt lumbers toward him wearing civilian clothes and carrying a duffel bag. The large, gaunt man waiting on the other side of the scanners appears to be his father.

Hux hurries in Schmidt’s direction, feigning that he’s rushing to breakfast. They bump shoulders. Hux slips the dime bag in Schmidt’s jacket pocket.

“Watch it, frosh,” Schmidt says, and shoves Hux into a wall.

“Sorry,” Hux mutters, and keeps walking.

A minute later, Hux hears shouting: “That’s not mine! I swear—get the hell _off me!_ ” A scuffle. Walkie talkies crackling as security guards run past Hux down the hallway.

♠

“What did you do?” Mitaka asks.

Hux is on the floor of his dorm doing his homework, books spread open around hm. He tailored his workload to remain at a steady eighty-eight percent in every class, just high enough to keep off the tutoring list but not too high to call attention to himself.

“You’re going to have to be more specific,” Hux says, not looking up from the notebook balanced on his knee.

“Schmidt. He hasn’t roughed me up in a week. There are rumors going around that he’s in the Dungeon.”

Hux looks up. “The Dungeon?”

“They don’t do detention or suspension or anything like that here. You get busted, you get thrown in the Dungeon. It’s like solitary confinement or something, I don’t know. This guy named Jabba runs it and nobody knows what happens down there.”

“That’s good, then,” Hux says. “Schmidt’s out of your hair.”

“For now. When he gets back, I’m gonna be the first guy he comes to.”

“Why is he on your ass anyway?”

Mitaka slumps on his bed. “My mom gives me extra commissary money. Schmidt makes me buy him cigarettes.”

“I thought you could only buy them if you were eighteen.”

“Not if you bribe the cashier, which makes them even more expensive.” A silence falls between them. Mitaka says quietly, “Thanks for trying to help though.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hux replies, and goes back to his homework.

♠

A strange thing starts happening: all the Mitakas of the school, the runts and shy boys, the nerds and rejects, start buying packs of cigarettes.

And giving them to Hux.

At first Hux tries to give them back. Every day, a younger or smaller cadet will slide him a pack on his desk in passing, or slip one into his hand at the mess, or drop one off to him while he’s in the library.

He soon has over a dozen packs of cigarettes and no idea what to do with them.

“What’s going on?” he asks Mitaka one night before lights out. He shoves three new packs of cigarettes into his locker. “Why is everyone giving me cigarettes?”

“My guess is that it’s an act of solidarity against Schmidt,” Mitaka says.

“How?”

“Everyone buys one pack of cigarettes, eventually the commissary runs out, and Schmidt can’t beat anyone up over them when he gets back. They give them to you so they don’t have them and Schmidt can’t beat them up and take them.”

“But then Schmidt’s going to beat _me_ up.”

Mitaka gives him a deadpan look. “Your first day here, you looked like you’d gotten hit by a train. People noticed. Nobody messes with a guy who comes in mid-year looking like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because it means the other guy probably looks worse.”

♠

Hux finds a new hideout to play chess by himself, under the bleachers in the drill deck. It reminds him of first grade, back when he used to just watch Ben instead of play with him. It feels like a million years have passed since then.

“I hear Schmidty got busted for fifteen dollars worth of shitty weed,” Toph says from outside the bleachers. His shadow blocks Hux’s light between the slats.

Hux doesn’t reply.

“You’re lucky I’m not the only dealer at this school,” Toph continues. “That could’ve come back to bite me.”

“But it didn’t,” Hux says.

“Still, you took the risk. For your roommate, I’m guessing. How noble. I can’t tell if I’m mad about it or admire you for it.”

“Either way, I don’t care.”

Toph leaves and Hux relaxes. He moves a black pawn distractedly even though it gives white the upper hand.

Toph reappears moments later, under the bleachers. He sits down on the other side of Hux’s chessboard. “Let’s make a deal.”

Hux’s fingers twitch; his mind narrows to a point and he hates that Toph now has his complete attention with only four words.

He wants to tell Toph to fuck off. Instead he asks, “What kind of deal?”

“We play one game. If you win, I’ll leave you alone. Forever.”

For the first time in Hux’s life, the script is reversed. “And if I lose?”

“You have to kiss me.”

“Deal,” Hux says too quickly. He’s horrified—his hands are sweating and his heart is beating too fast and his face flushes red.

Toph laughs at him. “Eager? You know if you want to kiss me, we don’t need a bet for it. I offer my services freely.”

“I’m eager to get you out of my sight,” Hux replies. He knows he sounds cruel but he doesn’t care. The sooner he can beat Toph, the sooner Toph will stop distracting him from his primary goal.

 _Ben_ , Hux reminds himself. Ben is the goal.

They reset the board. Hux plays white and Toph plays black. Hux moves his king’s pawn first. Toph does the same. Two more moves, and Toph says, “The Ruy Lopez. I took you as more of a Queen’s Gambit kind of guy.”

Hux doesn’t want to admit he has no idea what Toph is talking about, so he doesn’t say anything. They play in silence. Hux takes a few moments between turns and can feel Toph’s eyes on him. Toph always moves immediately after; Hux catches his hand dart to the side of the board as if to tap a chess clock.

A handful of Hux’s pawns and his bishop are the first pieces to go. The game moves quickly—every piece Toph takes spins Hux into further doubt. He manages to take complete control of the center of the board effortlessly.

“Check,” Toph says, sliding his rook across the board.

Hux shuffles his king out of it.

“Check,” Toph says again, smiling this time with a flick of the same rook to the left, but Hux won’t look at him.

Hux moves his king.

“I know you want to kiss me, gingersnap, but you didn’t have to let me win.” Toph moves his queen. “Checkmate.”

“No way,” Hux says. That’s Ben’s line. He glares at Toph. “No one has beaten me at chess in years.”

“That’s probably because you refuse to play people who are better than you.” Toph stands and grabs up his books, Reagan’s face smiling up from the top of the stack.

“You won,” Hux says. “Aren’t you going to claim your victory kiss?”

“Not yet. I’ll come find you when I want it.”


	16. Chapter 16

Hux slides a quarter into the payphone and dials Ben’s number from memory. He has every word of both letters trapped in his head too, for when he wants to reread them but there are too many people around. He looks around as it rings—the hallway is empty, but he huddles close to the phone anyway.

A man with a clipped British accent answers: “Organa residence.”

“Hello, may I speak with Ben?” Hux asks. He’d spent most of the day mentally practicing every potential scenario of the call.

“May I ask who’s speaking?”

“His math tutor.”

“Oh, Leon! It is _so_ good to hear from you. Have you recovered yet? You don’t sound like yourself at all.”

“Uhh…” Hux hadn’t prepared for Ben to actually have a math tutor.

“The flu is just _awful_ this time of year.”

Hux covers the receiver and coughs, then comes back with, “Getting there.”

“Are you calling to cancel your session? We don’t have to disturb Mr. Benjamin, I can reschedule for you—”

“No,” Hux says quickly. “I was thinking we could go through his homework over the phone.”

Carlton (presumably) makes a _tsk_ noise. “That is just wonderful of you. I’ve never met a tutor so devoted. You’re going to do great things, young man.”

Hux feigns a coughing fit and pretends not to have heard. “How is your mother doing, by the way?”

Carlton launches into a story about his mother’s bout with pneumonia. Hux gives thoughtful _mhm_ s and _ah_ s and thinks his time is going to expire before Carlton will hand the phone off to Ben.

After several minutes, Hux hears in the background, “Carlton, who is that?”

“Mr. Benjamin,” Carlton says, “You’re supposed to be—”

“Who are you talking to?” A threatening edge lies in Ben’s voice Hux has rarely heard before, usually reserved for his father or when Rey is being particularly irritating.

“Leon—” Carlton begins.

“I told you to stop hoarding my calls.” Static crackles as Hux imagines Ben grabbing the phone from Carlton. A second later: “Hello?”

“It’s me,” Hux says.

“Hey...Leon.” Ben clears his throat. “How are you, uhh, feeling?”

“We’re supposed to be going over your homework.”

“That’s good. Hold on, let me pick up the phone in my room.” The receiver gets set down, and a moment later, another line picks up. Ben shouts, “Hang up the phone, Carlton!”

“Yes, Mr. Benjamin,” Carlton says, chipper as if Ben hadn’t been overtly rude to him, and the first line hangs up.

“That was _way_ more complicated than it needed to be,” Ben says.

“You didn’t tell me you had a real math tutor.” Hux doesn’t mean to sound as accusatory as it comes out, but his heart is racing and he’s gripping the receiver so hard his palm hurts.

Ben sounds accusatory right back: “You weren’t supposed to take two weeks to call.”

Guilt breaks Hux of his frustration, and he mutters, "Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Ben replies, finally softening. “I’m sorry too. For all of this.”

“It’s not your fault.” A silence, too many words to say and not enough time to say them. “I’m better off here than at home.”

“So it’s not that bad?”

“Not yet, anyway. In a couple weeks I imagine it’ll get a lot worse.”

“Why?”

Hux tells Ben all about Schmidt without mentioning names, and pointedly skips over nearly everything involving Toph. “So now I have a dozen packs of cigarettes for no reason and it’s going to come back to bite me.”

“You did the right thing, though," Ben says. "You’re just so smart."

“I don’t know about that. I still can’t figure out how the hell to get out of here.”

“What do you have so far?”

Hux pulls his notebook out of his back pocket and thumbs through the pages. “If I leave, it’ll have to be from Friday evening through Sunday morning. That’s when the security is lowest and least likely to notice anything off. We’d need someone to come get me and either take me to the bus stop or straight to you. There are a handful of motels between Carida and DC that I figure we could stay at.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad.”

“It does when you consider we don’t have anyone to pick me up—”

“I’ll steal a car.”

“Illegal. We don’t have any money for a motel room—”

“I’ll rob a bank.”

“Also illegal. And we’re not old enough to actually rent a room—”

“We’ll bribe them.”

“Not illegal, but a variable I’d rather solve ahead of time.”

Ben makes a frustrated noise. “You’re a half hour away, why is this so hard?”

“Because I’m essentially in prison and your parents are assholes.” Hux lets out a long breath and closes his eyes. “We’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah,” Ben agrees. Another silence. When Ben speaks again, his voice is lower, intense like a secret: “Can I tell you now?”

In an instant, Hux is back at the quarry, Ben’s lips on his throat, teeth grazing his jaw. Hux’s eyes threaten to water; a familiar ache builds in his throat. He steels himself and says, “Not yet. Not until we see each other again."

“But you know?”

Hux can barely get the words out. “I know.”

A recorded voice tells them they have a minute remaining. They say their goodbyes and Hux promises to call again soon. When he hangs up, he rests his head against the payphone. His whole body trembles with the unyielding need to touch Ben again, to touch something solid, something that belongs to him. A gaping emptiness—homesickness, maybe, but for a person rather than a place—takes over him, like being gutted, or his limbs severed. He no longer feels whole.

Tears spill over and fall down his face. He continues clutching the phone even though his palm is sweating. It’s the only direct line to Ben, a life line—

“Dramaaatic,” Toph says.

Hux doesn’t bother glancing over. From his peripheral vision he can see Toph lean against the wall beside the phone.

Through gritted teeth, Hux replies, “Bite me, Crews.”

“If that’s what you’re into.”

“Fuck off.”

Toph ignores him. “So Ben, huh?”

A flash of white hot rage shoots through Hux. Before he knows what’s happening, he has Toph’s rumpled uniform shirt bunched in his fists. His eyes bore into Toph’s, searching for Ben’s and coming up short. “Leave me the _fuck_ —” He slams Toph against the wall. “—alone.”

Toph stares back, his arrogance having fallen somber. “No.”

“Why?”

“You need a friend right now.”

Hux presses closer even though he knows he shouldn’t. “I don’t have friends.” He intends it to sound sharp but it comes out weary; he regrets it as soon as the words leave his lips.

“You could,” Toph says. Any other time, Hux would take it as an empty promise, a trick, but something about the way Toph is looking at him—earnest, open—Hux wants to believe him. Hux wants to trust him. He doesn’t want to be alone anymore.

Toph takes Hux’s hands from his shirt and holds them. “I look like him,” he says. “I look like Ben.”

Hux nods, bites his cheek to keep from crying again and can no longer look at Toph without the threat of breaking.

“Show me.”

♠

They end up in Hux’s bunk, cross-legged with the shoebox of photographs between them. Hux turns the pile over and starts from the bottom. Each photograph is meticulously labeled, Hux’s handwriting growing steadier and more confident as the years pass.

The first picture reads: _7th Berth day_. Hux turns it over and lets the onslaught of grief pass over him upon seeing Ben’s face for the first time in months, with his cheesy grin and wild hair, neither of which he grew out of. He passes it to Toph and says, “This was him about ten years ago.”

“Good looking kid,” Toph replies.

Hux goes through the pictures, one by one, until eventually his entire life story unfolds—how he met Ben, how they came to be friends, sneaking out to see each other, teaching each other cards, mixtapes and baseball games and the quarry. He shows Toph a more recent picture of Ben—one taken on a lazy weekend as he looks at Hux fondly, slats of sunlight from the blinds of his bedroom falling across the side of his face.

“Shit,” Toph says. “I’d date the hell out of him.”

“Narcissist.” Hux takes the picture back and goes to the next one. “And anyway, he’s taken.”

Hux has never admitted it out loud to anyone but Ben, and even those conversations tend to be vague. It’s more an indescribable feeling than anything he would want to pigeonhole into defining terms, but it’s nevertheless freeing to be able to tell someone else who understands.

He gets to the very last picture. It’s of his mother, one of her last good days: morning coffee, her hand covering her face and her smile. Sometimes, Hux still convinces himself she’s working late and she’ll be home soon.

Toph turns the picture over. “This says it was taken a year ago. Where’s the rest of them?”

“She died shortly after that. Killed herself.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Toph says, and unlike when other people say it, he sounds like he means it.

“Then I got busted for running an underground blackjack ring at school. Ben got kicked off the baseball team and his parents forced him to move to DC. It’s been a busy year.”

“Okay,” Toph says, nodding and taking it all in. “I have questions.”

Before he can ask them, Hux explains, “I started blackjack as an excuse to practice counting cards. Ben accidentally outed himself in class so rumors started about us and I got beat up a lot. Everything came to a head when I got called out for cheating and then Ben ended up almost killing two kids defending my honor and that’s how he got kicked off the baseball team. His mom won the congressional election so now Ben lives in her DC house and he’s constantly guarded by handlers.”

“Damn.”

“Then I staged a beating so I could out myself and my dad would send me to military school and I also planted guns in the lockers of the guys who beat me up so they’d get expelled.”

Toph laughs, which isn't the reaction Hux had been expecting. “So as soon as you arrive, you pick a feud with the biggest, meanest guy here and win the allegiance of half the regiment.”

“Pretty much.”

Toph smiles at him the way Ben does sometimes that Hux has never understood. He’s nothing special. He hasn’t done anything anyone else wouldn’t do. “God, red, you are something else.”

♠

Toph invites Hux to sit with his friends at lunch the next day, even though they’re seniors. They’re a loud, theatrical group whose individuality hasn’t been systematically ripped from them like the school endeavors, and Hux finds himself reluctantly smiling at their jokes, eventually laughing with them. Before the bell rings to signal afternoon classes, Toph asks Hux, “Under the bleachers, nineteen hundred?”

When Hux gives him a wary look, Toph clarifies, "Just chess.”

“Alright,” Hux says, and finds himself spending the rest of the day looking forward to it.

♠

Hux is waiting below the bleachers well before seven. The drill deck is usually empty at this point, only the physically restless still shooting hoops or running laps. When Toph shows up—exactly on time—he brings bags of chips and cookies, cans of pop.

“Where’d you get all that?” Hux asks.

“I know people.”

Hux loses the first game, but Toph explains what he did wrong, move by move, from memory. The next game goes longer and the board is evened out in pieces when Toph calls checkmate. Hux gets frustrated by the third, antsy from additional caffeine, and it doesn’t help that his queen was just taken by Toph’s rook.

“How do you do it?” Hux demands. “I’ve been playing chess for two years and I’ve never lost this much.”

“You’ve only been playing for _two years_? That’s amazing. It took me that long just to stop calling knights ‘horsies’.”

“How long have you been playing?”

“Since I developed the fine motor skills to move pieces across a board.”

“How is that possible?”

Toph huffs a disbelieving laugh. “You haven’t heard? Man, Carida’s rumor mill has really gone downhill.”

“Enlighten me.”

For once, Toph’s ridiculous facade falters. “I’m some kinda prodigy or whatever. I mean, I was. I don’t think you’re considered a prodigy anymore when you’re a seventeen year old stoner with no life prospects.”

“How did you end up here then?”

“Same as everybody else. Behavioral issues. My mom thought _a stronger hand_ would do me some good. Little did she know she was dropping me into a cesspool of rebellious pretty boys with daddy issues and something to prove.”

Hux plays with the cross on top of his king. “So you’ve...you know.”

“I’ve what?”

“You know.” Hux can feel his face heat up. “Had sex. With...men.”

When Toph doesn’t answer, Hux risks a glance at him. He’s grinning in the crooked, charming way he does that makes Hux forget where they are and who they are and why this is all a very bad idea.

“What?” Hux asks.

“I just can’t believe you and Ben haven’t fucked yet.”

“I didn’t say that,” Hux quickly amends.

“I’m in MENSA. Give me some credit.”

“It’s just,” Hux begins. He finally settles on his move, a stupid, desperate one that puts his remaining rook at risk. “Complicated.”

Toph slides his queen across the board, thankfully not to take Hux’s rook, but an enigmatic move that Hux would need more focus to decipher. “So who would bottom?”

“Oh my god,” Hux says, and covers his face with his hands.

“These are the kinds of deep, introspective questions you need to be asking yourself, gingersnap. Once you take it up the ass, you’ll have your bottom card stamped forever. There’s no going back.”

“I regret this entire conversation,” Hux says. He moves a pawn for lack of anything better to do.

Toph slides his queen back across the board. “Check. I’d be more than happy to offer you my expertise on the topic. Some hands-on instruction, have you. Out of the goodness of my heart of course. I’m altruistic like that.”

Hux gives him a deadpan look as he moves his king out of check.

“I can’t even flirt with you?” Toph asks. He moves his queen again. “Checkmate.”

Hux doesn’t bother confirming it. “By making me doubt my intellect and offering me sexual services?”

“How else do you flirt?”

“By being nice.”

Toph takes Hux’s hand, and again Hux marvels at the softness of his skin, the slightness of his fingers. “I really do think you’re beautiful.”

“I—” Hux begins, but his mind blanks and all he can see are Toph’s warm brown eyes. So much intelligence and wit behind them. Sharpness and cunning and depth and talent and—

Nothing like Ben’s. Ben’s eyes are kind and mischievous and loyal and familiar. Hux pulls his hand away and says, “Thank you.”


	17. Chapter 17

Hux spends more time with Toph than he spends alone. The music room is seldom used in the evening, and of course Toph can play piano, as well as a dozen other instruments. He’s apparently won as many national awards for music as he has for chess and the PSATs. Hux sits next to him on the bench and listens to him go through a massive repertoire, some of which are his own compositions. Toph can also draw and write and make a free-throw from the fault line each time. He’s basically perfect, which Hux finds equally enamoring and infuriating.

Neither of them have mentioned the kiss Hux owes him—Hux hopes that Toph may have forgotten about it in his seemingly constant state of hypomania.  

Unlike Ben, Toph doesn’t fill every silence with inane chatter. But they also don’t share food, and Toph has a million other friends, so Hux tends to feel like a new toy around him, one that will likely get discarded when something better comes around. For now, Hux lets himself enjoy the company, and he doesn’t rebuff as much flirtation as he probably should. He finds Toph’s adoration gives him something to look forward to every day. His passivity lends itself to thighs pressed against each other at the mess, Toph brushing Hux’s hair from his forehead, and neatly folded notes handed off in the hallway between classes. Toph’s handwriting is large and messy and bold; he presses so hard onto the paper that the letters bleed through to the other side. Hux can barely read it.  

> _My dearest Gingersnap—_
> 
> _Time away from your company is a waste of mental energy I would rather expend trading wits with you. Though I recognize I tend to give you two of mine for every one of yours—which is no fault of your own, as I recognize half your wit belongs elsewhere as you scheme your romantic escape; my meager mind is no measure to your mirth, a mere mite may manage the mayhem of my meek heart, for truly, it beats for you. I am forever thankful to be given what time and attention you have to spare, and hope you will one day consider me for the future ghostwriting of your inevitable autobiography. I will, of course, depict the archetypal boarding school chum Christopher Crews with humility and poise, though I may reserve an entire chapter describing your inner turmoil as you reluctantly rebuke his endless attempts at wooing you. Charming bastard, that Crews._
> 
> _Yours, as long as you will have me,_
> 
> _CRC_

Hux writes back:  

> _Crews,_
> 
> _You’re incorrigible._
> 
> _Regards,_
> 
> _O’Connell_
> 
> _PS Alliteration? You can do better. Sonnets or bust._

The weather starts to warm up. Hux and Toph go on walks around the track. Toph picks dandelions for him; Hux throws them aside and reminds him they’re just weeds.

“Weeds are flowers that are growing where they aren’t supposed to,” Toph says with playful smugness. “I’d think you’d have more sympathy for them.”

After dark, they lie in an empty field and talk. They stick to literature, mostly. Books Hux is required to read for class that Toph probably memorized when he was four. Occasionally they deviate into music, art, food. Their conversations highlight Hux’s overall inadequacy—he can keep up with Toph intellectually but not culturally, and their talks often derail into emphatic lectures about obscure topics Hux wishes he could understand.

“Give me your hand,” Toph says one night, after a discussion on the pitfalls of the Clinton administration followed by a lengthy rhetoric on why Hux should start listening to the Smashing Pumpkins. They’re propped against a goalpost. The sun is setting across the football field, and Hux is wearing Toph’s jacket because he forgot his own. Unlike Ben’s clothes, Toph’s fit him.

Hux offers his hand, palm-up. Toph pushes down the sleeve of his jacket and lifts Hux’s wrist to his lips. “What are you—” Hux begins, but doesn’t pull away.

Toph closes his eyes and kisses Hux’s wrist, parts his lips and kisses him again, wet this time, with a slight scrape of his teeth. The sensation trickles over Hux’s whole body in a wave of unexpected pleasure. He adamantly ignores the pressure between his legs.

“What was that for?” Hux asks.

Toph lowers their hands but continues holding Hux’s in both of his. “You’re strawberries and cream,” he says, as if that explains it.

This is it, Hux thinks. This is the part where he has to tell Toph to knock it off, Ben is out there waiting for him and Hux can’t let himself get distracted by incredibly intelligent, attractive, talented, funny Ben-lookalikes. Ben doesn’t know how to spell ‘definitely’ and his features are too big for his face and the only thing he’s good at is baseball and whenever he tells a joke, he starts laughing too hard to finish it. Ben. The real Ben, whose music tastes consist of whatever Top 40 hits Hux puts on a mixtape for him and whose definition of Democrat is _I don’t know, ask my mom._

“Toph...” Hux says, even though he’s never called Toph by his first name before. He stares at their hands. Toph’s wrists are thin and gentle; it reminds Hux of Ben’s ridiculous calculator watch he always used to wear—“Wait, what time is it?”

Toph, of course, looks at the position of the sun and says, “A little after nineteen.”

“Sorry, I have to go,” Hux says as he stands up and rushes toward the school.

♠

Hux lifts the receiver and thumbs over his last quarter from his five dollar bill. He’s been calling Ben every few nights or so—listening more than he talks, nervous someone is eavesdropping on him. Tonight he gets Artie, who doesn’t even ask who’s calling before handing the phone off to Ben.

They get the how-was-your-days over with, Hux, as usual, avoiding all mention of Toph. Eventually he says, “This was my last quarter.”

“Then we have to make a plan,” Ben replies. “Like, now.”

“I can’t even figure out how to leave campus.”

“Why not? You always have a dozen ideas.”

Hux is still wearing Toph’s jacket. He looks at his wrist and says, “I’ve been...preoccupied.”

“How? What could possibly be more important than this? It’s been months.”

It feels like Hux just arrived, but Ben is right. He moved to DC mid-December, and now it’s nearly May. Almost six months have passed since they've last seen each other. “I’m sorry,” is all Hux can come up with. “School is more challenging here than I anticipated. I have to maintain a B-average to keep my scholarship.”

“But the only reason you’re there is so we can be closer.”

“If I get kicked out, it’ll defeat the purpose of coming here at all,” Hux says, sharper than he intends it. “It’s not like you’re doing anything to figure this out. You’re putting it all on me.”

“Because I’m not smart like you.”

“That’s just something your father made you believe so you’d use baseball as a crutch.”

The line goes silent. Hux closes his eyes and can see the look on Ben’s face—innocently bewildered, hurt. “Sorry,” he says again.

“It’s okay,” Ben replies. “Fighting isn’t going to get us out of this. We need to, I don’t know, work backwards or something.”

“How?”

“We’ll come up with a time and place to meet and each figure out how to get there on our own.”

Hux pauses. “That’s brilliant.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Do you have the white pages and a road map?”

“Um, yeah, hold on.”

They proceed to go through the white page listings for motels, and Ben plots them out on a map. They settle on one closer to Hux, thirty dollars a night.

“Okay, now when,” Hux says.

“Next weekend. I have that Friday off for Emapinsation Day.”

“Emancipation.”

“Whatever.”

“Let me write this down.” Hux cradles the phone between his shoulder and ear and fishes around in Toph’s pockets for a pen and paper. He locates a fountain pen in the breast pocket and some scrap paper. Ben tells him the address, date, and time they agreed on and Hux writes it down just as the voice recording warns them they’re out of time.

“And if one of us can’t make it,” Ben says, “then we’ll just have to figure something else out.”

“We’ll make it,” Hux assures him.

He can hear Ben smiling as he says, “I’ll see you next week.”

They say their goodbyes. Hux hangs up and caps Toph’s fountain pen. He neatly folds the scrap paper with the motel address in half, and catches sight of the front of it—

It’s a receipt. Dated yesterday. From a gas station.

♠

“What the hell is this?” Hux asks, holding up the receipt. He found Toph in the library, minutes before lights out.

Toph looks up from his book and squints at the paper in Hux’s hand. “Is this some kind of philosophical experiment? Does the paper really exist? Do we really exist?”

Hux shoves it closer to Toph’s face, so his eyes have to cross to see it. “Where did you get this?”

“The BP across the highway,” Toph admits, flippancy deflating into irritation. “Obviously.”

“And how did you _get_ to the BP across the highway?”

Toph looks around nervously and asks, “Will you keep it down? Christ.” He stands from the table and gets in Hux’s space. Hux has gotten used to the casual affronts to his personal boundaries. Toph leans in and whispers, “There’s a way off campus.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Hux whispers back harshly. “You know I’ve been trying to get out of here.”

“We’re in the middle of nowhere. What were you going to do? Hitchhike?”

“If I have to.”

“Excuse me for thinking that letting you wander onto the highway was a suitable solution to your problems.”

The lights-out bell rings and Toph starts to make his way toward the dorms. Hux follows. “You could have at least let me know.”

“You didn’t ask,” Toph says.

“Fine. I’m asking.” Hux grabs Toph by the arm and spins him so they’re facing each other. “Will you show me how to get off campus?”

Toph looks at him the same way he looks at the faculty—thinly veiled disdain, the perfect picture of teen angst. “I don’t want to.”

“Why not?”

“I’m about to graduate in a few months. I’m trying out the straight and narrow for a change.”

“Nothing about you is straight.”

Toph starts walking away again, and Hux catches up. “Wait, wait, we can make a deal.”

“You’re my friend now. I don’t make deals with friends.”

“Then consider it a favor.”

“I don’t do favors either.”

“Please,” Hux says. “I need this.”

They make it to Toph’s dorm. He hesitates in front of the door.

“Fine,” he relents. He glances at Hux once more; the resemblance to Ben’s sour moods is uncanny, except Hux doesn’t think Toph is capable of the kind of violent tantrums Ben is. “But only because a senior showed me when I was a sophomore, and when you’re a senior, you’ll need to pass it on too.”


	18. Chapter 18

Hux has a little over a week to make, at minimum, fifty dollars to cover his share of the hotel, food, and potential bribing. He needs a way from the BP across the highway to the hotel, as well as an excuse for skipping Friday and Saturday count. He convinces himself these are manageable tasks.

Schmidt still hasn’t returned from the Dungeon, and Hux’s cigarette deluge has tapered off, presumably because the commissary is finally running out. Hux’s locker is overflowing with them, and the only time he smokes is whenever Toph and his friends do, just to make himself feel older. It takes a surprising amount of time before rumors start that Carida pulled cigarettes from commissary stock per the current political tides, which Hux would normally be happy to let everyone believe. Unfortunately, the only way to make money is to show his hand.

He starts with some of Toph’s friends—sans Toph—behind the west wing resident hall. They’re desperately relighting butts they find on the ground. Hux stands off to the side and slaps a new pack against his palm. He slides one out and perches it between his lips before lighting it with a match.

“Where did you get those?” one boy asks. “Is the commissary back in stock?”

“These?” Hux takes a drag and blows it out. “They’re from my personal supply.”

“Holy shit,” another one says.

“How much you want for a pack?” a third asks.

Hux pretends to consider it by looking at the cigarette. “I don’t know, fifteen?”

“No way,” the first one says. “We’ll give you five.”

“Ten.”

“Seven and a bag of peanut M&Ms.”

“Deal.”

It’s a start.

♠

Hux finds Toph in the drill deck during the upperclassmen combat training class. He takes a seat in the bleachers and watches. Underclassmen have to take regular gym class, which Hux has been enduring—running the mile, climbing the rope, obstacle courses. Next year he’ll get acquainted with firearms, ammunition, and other assorted weaponry, in addition to hand-to-hand.

Being the end of the semester, senior combat class has turned more or less into disorganized sparring matches. Hux watches as Toph fights a larger cadet. The younger students have to wear padding and helmets; the seniors only have to wear hand wraps.

His cohort cheers them on: _Don’t let him take you down!_ they shout. _Stay away from his legs!_

The larger cadet gets a few light upper-body strikes in, but Toph quickly takes his feet out from under him in a move that can only be described as acrobatic. Once the fight turns into a grapple, Toph overpowers him easily with his advantage of swiftness and dexterity, and gets him in a chokehold with the crook of his elbow, the boy’s torso between his legs. The larger boy taps the mat and Toph lets him go.

Before the next fight can start, the gym teacher blows the whistle. The boys all head to the locker rooms except for Toph, who helps put away the mats. Toph pointedly ignores Hux as he approaches.

“No flirtatious one-liner to impress me with your unerring charisma?” Hux asks as he assists folding a mat.

“I’m busy,” Toph says. He tosses the mat onto the stack in the storage room.

“My simple mind can’t recall…” Hux snaps his fingers in thought. “I think there’s a saying about turning tables.”

Toph finally looks at him. “What do you want, red?”

“A favor.”

“I’m all tapped out on favors.” Toph tosses another mat into the storage room, but this time Hux crowds him inside and closes the door behind them. Toph’s dour expression flickers into something darker as Hux presses him against the wall.

“This isn’t a favor, gingersnap,” Toph says. His sweat-soaked shirt clings to him, hair wet and messy.

Hux tries to make himself focus on the task at hand instead of the ease of which their hips line up. He lets his eyes fall down to Toph's mouth and says, “You’re brilliant, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told,” Toph replies. His rattled confidence comes out in his voice: weaker, punctuated with nervous laughter.

“Modesty doesn’t suit you.”

“Seduction doesn’t suit you.”

“Doesn’t it?” Hux asks. He makes a slight movement with his hips and Toph’s eyes flutter closed.

“You’re using me.”

“That’s because you have so much—” Hux grinds filthily against him this time, and Toph clenches his jaw, lets out a long light moan in his throat. “—to give.” It’s like in chess, when the intricate move he’s built in his head starts to unfold perfectly, turn after turn, until his opponent has no choice but to defend, and eventually, succumb.

“You owe me a kiss. What if I cashed it in?"

“Then I’d kiss you,” Hux says. “But you won’t. You’re leaving. It’s the only thing you have over me, the only reason you have to come back.”

“I could come back because I like you.”

“There’s no poetry in that.”

Toph has a manic glitter in his eyes, the kind he gets when they’re playing chess and Hux is doing well enough to challenge him. “As much as I’m enjoying this little game you thought you could play—” Like he did to the larger cadet while sparring, he takes Hux’s feet out from under him, so Hux falls back on the stack of mats and Toph crawls between his legs. Toph devours him with his gaze, hand possessively on Hux’s hip. “I need you to go ahead and start begging for this favor you need.”

“Ramirez,” Hux says.

A flicker of confusion crosses Toph’s face, catches him off-guard. “What about him?”

“He does Friday and Saturday count for Romeo. I need to find a way out of it.”

“I’m not gonna help you skate weekend count just so you can go fuck your boyfriend.”

A second passes where Hux almost believes him, a wave of doubt that Toph is only in it for the game and this isn’t part of it. Then he catches the way Toph’s eyes bore into his—he’s seen that look before, in Ben. Blind loyalty, only the thin veneer of control. Hux doesn’t know what he’s done to earn Toph's allegiance, but he won’t question it.

“Yes, you will,” Hux says. He reaches up and thumbs over Toph’s bottom lip. Toph’s body tenses over him, like it’s taking all his willpower not to suck Hux’s thumb into his mouth, not to cash in his kiss and hope for the best. All that intellectual immensity, trapped in a body addicted to impulsivity.  _Behavioral issues_ , he'd said. Hux can see it now. 

“God, you’re something else,” Toph replies. He takes Hux’s hand and kisses his wrist again, shifts against him a little in a way that makes a spark of pleasure shoot up Hux’s spine. “If I do this, would you finally trust me?” That's it, Hux thinks—the facade has snapped. All Toph wants is Hux's trust, a power exchange, something to tie them together. Reliance on Toph is a sacrifice Hux has to be willing to make, his only way to Ben.

Every neuron in his brain is telling him he shouldn’t, though; Toph is a wild card, smarter than Hux, a manipulative military brat—“Of course.”

Toph smiles at him, the first genuine one he’s given Hux, like a light cast over him. It makes him look naive and wronged and innocent, all things Hux thinks he secretly is. He’s beautiful. On his own, even, not just his resemblance to Ben. Under different circumstances, Hux thinks he could have grown to love this boy.

“‘O love’s best habit is in seeming trust, and age in love loves not to have years told,’” Toph whispers, leaning down and peppering Hux’s neck with light brushes of his lips. “‘Therefore I lie with her, and she with me, and in our faults by lies we flattered be.’”

Hux lets out a long breath, steadies his voice, and asks, “Does that mean you’ll handle it?”

He can feel Toph smile against his throat. “I’ll handle it.”

♠

Hux focuses the next few days distributing packs of cigarettes and breaking out his cards to hustle again. It feels good to go back to his roots, performing in front of groups of cadets who haven’t yet learned all his tricks. Many don’t carry cash, so they offer snacks and trinkets, and those who do are difficult to appease; Hux relies more on his backstock of cigarettes for income, even though it’s not a renewable resource. It takes him until Friday morning to cap off the fifty dollars he thinks he’ll need.

Hours before he’s set to escape, he heads to Naval Studies. Cadets are all averting their eyes, whispering as he walks past. He finds Becker and asks, “What’s going on?”

Becker says, “We have just arrived at Naval Studies class, taught by—”

“No, why are people talking about me?”

Becker bites off a hunk of jerky and appears to utilize all his mental effort to conclude, “I believe Cadet Schmidt has returned from the Dungeon and is seeking to confront you on your alleged involvement in framing him for drug use.”

“Shit,” Hux says.

Becker doesn’t reply, probably because an expletive isn’t a direct inquiry. He takes another bite of jerky.

“Thanks for the information,” Hux adds with a pat to his shoulder, and takes his seat.

♠

Friday afternoon. Hux is as ready to leave as he’ll ever be, except for one obstacle remaining. One more battle. As long as it doesn’t kill him, he’ll make it out.

Schmidt is waiting for him outside the science building, after the final class bell. His face is sunken, sullen. He looks like he’s lost weight. His sandy hair is limp, clothes rumpled. His underbite makes him look like he’s always frowning. He’s taller than Hux, both fat and strong, and Hux isn’t even sure Ben could take him, or Finn, or Jimmy and Brett put together.

Hux drops his books and rolls up his sleeves. He tells Schmidt, “Let’s get this over with.”

Schmidt takes no time grabbing Hux by the shirt and throwing him against the brick wall. His breath is putrid against Hux’s neck, yet, Hux notes, absent of tobacco, which means he’s also going through nicotine withdrawal. "Great," Hux mutters.

“You’re fucking dead,” Schmidt says.

“I have somewhere I need to be. I’d appreciate if we could skip the foreplay.”

Hux doesn’t have time to register the fist clocking his cheek until it’s already happened, pain sparking behind his eyes. He works it off and says, “That’s better. By the way, I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced. My name is—”

“Everyone thinks you’re so tough.” Another punch, this one to the gut. Hux barely keeps himself from retching. Schmidt pulls him back up. “You look like a fucking runt to me.”

“Your observational skills astound. I’m sure your parents are so proud,” Hux says. He breathes through the pain and adds, “You know there are no more cigarettes. You’ll have to satisfy your oral fixation by sucking on your mother’s tit.” Schmidt punches him again. Hux can feel a bruise bloom across the side of his face. 

Cadets are starting to circle around them and watch. Schmidt gives them a show. Says cruel things that Hux refuses to let sink into him. His mind floats away to hours from now, away from this place, with Ben.

A right hook. Hux tastes blood.

Ben’s soft cotton t-shirts that Hux will tug off of him.

A knee to the crotch.

Ben’s hands that Hux will finally let roam all over.

Boxing his ears, until the ground spins underneath his feet.

Ben’s lips that Hux will kiss, and kiss, and kiss.

“Stop it!” someone yells from the sidelines.

Hux looks over and tries to focus his blurry vision. Mitaka is standing in front of the fray, a cigarette held up in front of him. His friends—all the boys who have given Hux packs of cigarettes over the past few weeks—stand their ground behind him. They each take a cigarette out of their pocket and hold it up.

“What the hell,” Schmidt says, and lets go of Hux, who slumps against the wall.

“It’s over, Schmidt,” Mitaka says. He cracks the cigarette in half and tosses it on the ground. One by one, the other boys take their cigarettes and snap them, then drop them at Schmidt’s feet. “Let him go, or you’ll never smoke another cigarette at this school again. We control the supply, and you can’t beat up all of us.”

Schmidt hesitates, takes a step back, looks around—confused, powerless. Hux almost feels sorry for him. When he returns his attention to Hux, his face is blotchy with fury, and he jams his fat finger in Hux’s chest. “Watch your back, runt,” he says, and kicks the cigarettes away while shoving through the crowd.

Hux breathes a labored exhale of relief. Mitaka picks up Hux’s books for him, and they walk—Hux limping, Mitaka holding him upright—together back to their dorm.

♠

Hux meets Toph at the football field a little after nightfall, when everyone else is at the mess.

“God, gingersnap, what the hell happened?” Toph asks.

“Nothing I didn’t have coming.”

“Schmidt?”

“Yep.”

“You look like you need to go to the hospital. Or the clinic, at least.” Toph pulls out a handkerchief from his pocket and wipes at Hux’s lip. “You’re bleeding.”

“It’ll stop eventually.”

“This Ben guy must be really special to be worth all this.”

“He is,” Hux says easily, and ignores the shadow of resentment in Toph’s eyes.

They head toward the woods behind the school, skirting the floodlights and keeping their heads down as they pass straggling cadets. The woods are thick and branches crack under Hux’s feet; burrs and twigs scrape at his bruised face and catch on his clothes. Toph navigates it with grace and provides a path for Hux to follow.

They reach the fence that looks out onto the highway. Down a quarter of a mile, the gas station glows brightly. The fence has been cut in a neat line, just enough for someone to crouch down and slip through.

“Are you the only one who knows about this?” Hux asks.

“Not anymore.” He gives Hux a once over and adds, “You can’t go there looking like you just beat your way through a military academy gauntlet.” He unbuttons Hux’s uniform shirt, which is still covered in blood. Untucks it and his undershirt. Reaches up and fixes his hair. “Better. Not great.”

Before Hux can think better of it, he wraps his arms around Toph's shoulders. “Thank you,” he says into the crook of Toph’s neck. “For everything.”

Toph hugs him back and says, “Anything for you, gingersnap.”

Hux pulls away and starts toward the fence.

“Hux, wait,” Toph says.

Hux stops. Toph has never used his name before. “What?”

“I just—” Toph lets out a long breath, his expression adopting that vulnerable, boyish innocence Hux had seen before, and says, “I really like you, and I know you know that, and I know you don’t feel the same. That’s fine. But I needed to tell you, in case something happens or you don’t come back.”

“Toph…”

“Don’t. Just—don’t say anything. Ben should know how lucky he is to have you. And if he doesn’t, I’ll be here. Even though I’ve never gotten second place in my life, I’d be happier with your silver medal than all the gold in the world.”

Hux can’t help it—he steps forward and kisses Toph’s cheek. Lingers there, because he’s tempted. So tempted. Toph is everything Ben isn’t, a key to a world Hux will never get to know. He can give Toph his owed kiss, go back into the school and get rid of all their aching tension. Tell Ben he couldn't figure out a way back, they'll try again later—

The fence rattles in the wind, and for a moment it sounds like the light tapping of Ben’s fingers against his window. Hux is back there, in his old apartment, filled with childish delight as he slides it open and Ben climbs inside, already prattling away at what all they should do that day. Ben is his history, and his heart, and Hux can’t let him go.

“Get outta here,” Toph says, shoving a little at his shoulder and belying the sadness in his tone.

“Bye, Toph,” Hux says, and starts to climb through the fence. When he makes it to the other side, he hops the sewer ditch and heads toward the road.

“Think about gaping canyons, that always helps,” Toph says behind him. “And use lots of lube!”

Hux waves him off and continues to the gas station.

♠

Hux can’t believe it. Months of preparation, all narrowed down to a single key. He slides it into the lock of his motel room door, twists, and it opens.

The room is empty; Ben hasn’t arrived yet, might not arrive, if he couldn’t figure out how to get here. The place is ragged but livable, gaudy floral wallpaper from the seventies, a hideous stained bedspread, an air conditioning unit that’s only pattering out slightly colder air than the warm breeze outside. A king-sized bed rests in the center, and Hux thinks is far too big for them—he can’t imagine they’ll need all that space.

Hux puts his bag on a chair and collapses onto the bed. Getting here had been easier than Hux expected. He walked to the gas station and used a payphone to call a taxi. The taxi took him straight to the motel, a silent fifteen minute drive where Hux anxiously anticipated everything that could go wrong. The radio played a No Doubt song that he would have excitedly put on a mixtape for Ben if he still had his tape deck, then thought fondly back to Toph’s lecture on how ska is the _red-headed stepchild—no offense—of disco, and should be put to death._ The drive cost six dollars.

The motel employee didn’t ask his age, or why he looked like he’d lost several boxing matches in a row. Hux purchased one night, in case Ben didn’t show and he had to go back. He put the room name under Amidala, per their last conversation.

Hux glances at the clock by the bed. Almost ten p.m., an hour after they were set to meet. Hux doesn’t let himself worry. Instead he goes into the bathroom and cleans himself up as best he can, wipes away all the dried blood, scrubs his fingernails. His knuckles are bruised and busted, which means he must have fought back at some point and doesn’t remember.

He looks at himself in the mirror, and barely recognizes his reflection. It occurs to him that maybe Ben won’t be attracted to him anymore, to this Hux who is taller and smarter and stronger than the boy he once knew. Who has to shave a couple times a week. Who often feels too heavy to smile. Who stares blankly into the distance for minutes at a time thinking nothing at all, and returns to reality feeling lost and alone.

He is no longer the terrified boy who refused to speak. The boy behind a camera. The boy with the magic tricks. He wonders what kind of boy Ben is now, if Hux has changed so much.

Hux lies on the bed and looks at the clock again. He closes his eyes and drifts off, occasionally waking to see that a half hour has passed, then another. Worry creeps through Hux's body. Longer spans of time now, three hours, five. He glances at the phone and knows if he calls Ben’s house, they’ll be found out. Six hours. Ben won’t show. It’s too late. Seven hours. A hazy sunrise crests over the horizon. This was too impossible, Hux thinks. There’s no way they could—

The doorknob shakes. The sound of a key sliding in. Hux sits up. Grips the bedspread in his hands.

It unlocks. Turns.

Hux can’t breathe. Can’t think.

The door opens.

 _Ben._  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [The sonnet Toph quotes](http://www.shakespeares-sonnets.com/sonnet/138)


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See end notes for warnings.

Ben drops his backpack to the ground. He looks as stunned as Hux feels. Hux gets up from the bed and takes a step toward him—Ben seems larger, somehow. Stronger. Taller. Or maybe Hux has gotten too used to Toph.

“What happened?” Ben asks. Before Hux can answer he closes the distance between them and cradles Hux’s face in his hands. His palms are warm and rough against the bruises.

Ben’s touch is the only home he’s ever really known, Hux thinks; this moment his only homecoming.

“Cigarette guy came out of the Dungeon. The nerds organized a coup. It was all very Cormier.” Toph would understand that reference; Ben ignores it.

“I wish I could have been there,” Ben says. He inches closer. Hux’s palms are on his chest—broad, muscular. There will be time to explore later, Hux tells himself. Two days of this. Of them.

“I can’t believe you’re here now,” Hux replies. He lets his fingers trail up to Ben’s throat, his jaw. His skin is still so familiar; it simultaneously feels like they only saw each other yesterday and they haven’t seen each other in years.

“I’m sorry I’m late. I couldn’t—”

“It’s alright,” Hux says.

Ben’s eyes flicker to Hux’s lips. Things are different between them now, Hux remembers, excitement flipping in his belly. Charged tension like static cling builds between them. Hux felt a shadow of it with Toph, but nothing compared to this—an electric shock versus a lightning bolt cracking through a storm.

Ben presses his forehead against Hux’s, wraps his arms around his waist. “I missed you.” Toph would have recited Lord Byron, or made a crass remark to ease the heaviness of the moment. Ben repeats himself, every conversation, three words that have somehow never lost their meaning: _I miss you, I miss you, I miss you._

“I missed you too.” Hux is almost nervous, mostly giddy, exhausted and starving and his whole body aches. Minuscule in comparison to the elation that overwhelms him.

Ben tilts Hux’s chin up and softly presses their lips together. Pulls Hux closer to him and deepens the kiss. Holds Hux tightly against him.

It is everything the last kiss wasn’t—bitter, where this one tastes sweet. Unhurried. Hux falls into the abyss of Ben's affections and lets himself drown. When Ben pulls away, he says, “Let’s go to bed.”

Just being around him makes Hux drowsy, some conditioned childhood response he wishes he could bottle and sell. He recognizes he probably hasn’t had a good night’s sleep since Ben left, and as much as he wants to stay up and talk, he wants more to rest in Ben’s embrace and wake up tangled in him.

Hux shrugs off his bloody overshirt; Ben slips off his shoes. By the time Hux slides under the covers, Ben is lifting his shirt over his head. As Hux suspected, he’s gained more muscle, and the sight of him stirs something in Hux he’s been ignoring for too long. Ben flips off the light, but the watery stream of dawn slips through the crack in the curtains. He lies next to Hux, their bodies fitting like two trees planted so closely that their branches have formed together. Hux tucks his head under Ben’s chin, breathes in the smell of his skin. Lays kisses wherever his mouth falls. Runs his hands over the sharp planes of his back, fingers blindly finding each familiar scar and mole.

“All of this, just to see me,” Ben says, like he can’t believe it. “Is it worth it?”

Hux snuggles closer, breathes deeper, feels the nagging tension of too many lonely months melting away. “Of course.”

♠

Hux wakes up the next morning (afternoon) to the sound of the shower turning off. Ben steps out of the bathroom naked and drying his hair with a scratchy towel. Hux looks and looks and looks—openly this time, for what he sees it really is now: blanket, unwavering attraction. They’ve woken up hundreds of mornings together, hundreds of times Hux has sleepily opened his eyes to the sight of Ben, unconsciously stretching his hand out to ask him to come back to bed, it’s cold here without him. Today feels no different.

“Breakfast?” Ben asks, a second before shoving his toothbrush in his mouth.

“There’s nothing around for miles,” Hux replies. His voice has started sounding deeper and scratchier than he expects in the morning. He wonders if he’ll ever get used to it.

Ben spits, runs the tap. “I have a car.” Hux stares at him until he wipes his mouth off and looks at him through the mirror’s reflection. “What?”

“Did you steal it?”

Ben climbs back into bed, slots his knee between Hux’s legs. He noses the juncture of Hux’s neck and says, “I borrowed it.”

“With consent?” Hux tries not to let out a little gasp as Ben kisses and bites at his throat.

“Yes with consent,” Ben replies. He shifts his leg just so, and Hux is now acutely aware of his own hardness, made worse because he can feel Ben’s pressed against him.

“Who would let you borrow a car?”

“A friend.”

“I thought you—” Hux moans as their hips line up, only the thin fabric of Hux’s boxers between them. “—didn’t have friends,” he finishes breathlessly.

“I made one.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

Ben kisses up Hux’s neck, the shifting movement of his hips gaining a steady rhythm. “It wasn’t worth mentioning.”

Hux would press the issue, but he hasn’t told Ben about Toph, either. He can’t focus anyway; Ben grinding against him casts stars behind his eyes, and he’s close already, so close—

“Breakfast,” he grits out. “And we’ll come back to this.”

♠

When Hux steps out of the motel room into the light of day, a gaudy yellow, brand new Mercedes-Benz SLK convertible greets him.

“This can’t be yours,” Hux says, but there are no other cars in the cracked, weed-strewn lot.

Ben unlocks the passenger side and opens the door for Hux. “I told you, it’s not.”

“Then whose is it?” Hux climbs in the car. It sits low and his limbs feel too long and gangly to fit inside. Ben climbs in the driver’s side gracefully, despite looking like he’s too big to drive the car at all. “And why would they let you borrow it?”

Ben turns the engine and looks out the back before peeling out of the lot. “It’s Leon’s.”

“Your math tutor?”

“I don’t have a math tutor.”

“You told me you had a math tutor.”

“I told you I had a Leon. I never said he was my math tutor.”

“He’s just pretending to be your math tutor,” Hux figures out. “So you told two people to pretend to be your math tutor. Smart.” Ben makes a left turn and Hux realizes he has no idea where they are, and that this is the first time he’s ever been away from home or school. “Wait, where are we going?”

“There’s a diner up the way.”

“How do you know?”

“I drive around here a lot.”

“How? When? What about Artie and Carlton?”

“They think I’m with Leon.”

“Your fake math tutor.”

“Yeah.”

“Who is actually a friend. Who owns a Benz. That he lets you borrow.”

“Yeah.”

“It seems like there’s a lot you’re not telling me.”

“Well, the feeling’s mutual.”

Hux opts for silence over airing his frustration, which is only serving to sublimate his guilt. For the first time since Hux has known him, Ben stays quiet too and doesn’t fill the void with idle talk about whatever’s floating through his brain. Maybe because what he’s thinking about he doesn’t feel compelled to tell Hux. Hux tries not to be offended.

“We’re not going to fight over this,” Hux says.

“Who’s fighting? I’m not fighting.”

“You’re not being particularly forthcoming, either.”

In lieu of a response, Ben takes his hand off the gear shift and grabs Hux’s, threads their fingers together. “We have all weekend, okay? One thing at a time.”

♠

Hux doesn’t have much money left, so he orders a short stack at the diner.

“What are you doing?” Ben asks him.

“I only have a few dollars,” Hux explains, face half-hidden by his menu.

The waitress taps her pen on her scratchpad. Hux can count the number of times he’s eaten at an actual sit-down restaurant on one hand; the experience of being waited on is always jarring.  

Ben says, “Don’t worry about it. Order whatever you want. I’ve got it covered.”

Hux is admittedly too hungry to argue. He adds eggs, bacon, hashbrowns, toast, and chocolate milk to his order. Ben orders the same, plus grits, biscuits and gravy, sausage, and coffee. The waitress takes their menus and walks away.

“Since when do you drink coffee? Since when do you have money?” Hux asks.

“Will you chill out?” Ben says. “I didn’t think military school would make you so uptight.”

“I’m not uptight. I know literally everything about you, and now there are gaps in my knowledge and I’m just—”

The waitress comes back to fill Ben’s coffee cup. Hux watches her nervously and hopes she doesn’t have any connections to either Carida or the US Senate. Ben says, “Thanks,” with a flirty little smile, and the waitress reciprocates, and Hux feels like his brain is going to explode.

When she walks away, Hux leans over the table and whispers, “What the fuck is happening?”

Ben pours half the canister of sugar into his coffee. “What do you mean?”

“What was that smile?”

“What? She’s cute.”

Hux makes a gesture between them in a way he hopes communicates, _But what about us, you fucker._

“She’s a girl,” Ben explains. “Girls don’t count.”

“How do girls not count?”

Ben reaches across the table and takes Hux’s hand. Hux lets him hold it for all of a couple beats before he remembers they’re in public, and pulls away. “That’s why girls don’t count,” Ben says. “It’s just fun. It doesn’t mean anything. You’re still—” He stops to look around and lean forward. He lowers his voice and adds, “You’re still the only one, okay.”

“Fine,” Hux relents, because whatever he has with Toph is still probably worse than Ben flirting shamelessly with women to satisfy whatever masculine ideals his father needlessly imparted on him. “So tell me about Leon, and why you’re driving a car that costs as much as a house, and how you have so much money.”

Ben takes a long gulp of coffee, followed by a deep breath, and says, “In my defense, I didn’t know what I was getting into.”

“Oh god.” Hux preemptively pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Leon’s a senior, the brother to a guy on my team. He overheard me fighting with my mom between innings, because we were losing and I was in a bad mood and I wanted to quit and get a job instead. She said no, of course. So he approached me later and asked if I would be interested in helping him out—for money—but I told him I’m basically under house arrest, and he explained it was all stuff I could do at school. And it was easy, at first. Leon said somebody owed him, I’d find them and ask for the money, and if I got them to pay up, I’d earn a cut of it.”

“Owed him money for what?”

“I’m getting to that. I didn’t think to ask questions at first. I thought I was doing the right thing—people should honor their commitments, you know? Especially these preppy spoiled assholes I go to school with.” Ben fidgets in his seat, picks at a crack in his mug. “Most of the time, my reputation did all the work and they just handed over the money. But then a guy threw a punch once and I had to defend myself, and Leon said—this is when we had to start the math tutor thing, so I could leave the house—Leon said I did so well that he’d start increasing my cut if I went after what he called ‘problem children.’”

“And these problem children…”

“Threw a lot of punches, yeah. There was a gun once, but I told Leon I couldn’t do those jobs until he got me a gun—”

_“What?”_

“Just listen. He didn’t get me a gun, okay? And anyway, after the gun scare, I finally asked him what people owed him for. He said stupid shit, weed and coke and stuff. People looking for uppers or downers or whatever before parties, say they’re good for the money, and never follow up. All I do is make sure they follow up.”

“You beat people up for drug money,” Hux clarifies. “You’re a bounty hunter.”

“You planted drugs on a guy so he’d get thrown in solitary confinement, Hux. There’s not that much of a difference. Morally, I mean. These kids are all politician brats with a beeline to ivy leagues and eventually Congress. I rough them up in a bathroom stall, grab twenty bucks for a rock they don’t remember snorting, and take my cut. It’s a good gig.”

“Why do you need a gig at all?”

Ben looks at him like it’s obvious. “To save up money for when we graduate, so we can hit the road right away. You can’t make much in military school. We’re going to need something to start us out.”

“What about college? What about baseball? What about—”

“I don’t want any of that stuff. You know that. All I want is you.”

All the questions and thoughts and worries in Hux’s head fly right out, and he’s left with only the reminder that this is about them, about the pursuit of their lives together, not just a weekend away. Hux is about to reply when the waitress comes by with their food.

“Don’t worry about me, okay,” Ben says, picking up a piece of toast and tearing into it. “I’m fine.”

♠

Ben pays for the meal with a wad of cash from his wallet. Hux glimpses at it, a thick row of bills, and is thankful he doesn’t have to pay because he’s never closed a restaurant tab and has no idea how it any of it works. The waitress leaves her phone number on the bill, and Hux thinks he catches Ben wink at her on their way out. His only consolation is that Ben throws the girl’s number away in the trashcan outside the diner.

It feels like the time Ben went to turnabout with Annie, except now Hux wonders how often this supposedly benign flirtation happens, and how far any of it goes. He stops that train of thought until it spirals out of his control and asks, somewhat absently, “What do you want to do now?”

Ben shifts in the driver’s seat, one hand on the wheel and the other on the back of the headrest. The car is warm from the springtime sun beating down on it, and Ben says, “Kiss you.”

Hux’s stomach drops and his heart races a little faster. They’ve never been so explicit about it. “Here?” Hux asks. “We’re in public.”

“Doesn’t that make it more fun?”

Hux doesn’t have time to answer, because Ben is already leaning into him, licking into him, and the speed at which Hux gets hard should probably be embarrassing. When Ben pulls away, he says, “I want to show you something.”

♠

They end up on a long stretch of empty road, the top down on the Benz. Hux knows what’s coming, and he can’t help but grin, his hand gripping the side of the door and the other his seat.

“Ready?” Ben asks.

Hux nods.

Ben floors it. The tires squeal and puff up smoke from the asphalt. Hux’s head is thrown back; the speedometer climbs higher and higher. He’s laughing, shouting, can barely hear himself above the wind. Strands of thick black hair fall out of Ben’s ponytail. He has a manic glint in his eye that reminds Hux of Toph, and for a brief moment he wishes they could be friends, until the thought shatters—they would probably destroy the entire world together.

“Hold on,” Ben says above the wind, and brakes, hard, yanks the wheel to the side and shifts gears. The car spins and the movement is so severe that Hux can’t breathe as the world turns around them. It reminds him of the fair that comes to town every year, the little teacup ride that always leaves Hux questioning whether the second funnel cake was really worth it. The tires squeal again, deafening this time. The car straightens and Ben guns it back the other way.

“Where did you learn to drive like this?” Hux asks.

“Artie,” Ben says. “Guy’s a maniac behind the wheel.”

“Is this what it’ll be like when we’re on the road together?”

Ben glances at him from his peripheral vision, grabs Hux’s hand and, in lieu of a response, brings it to his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Underage sexual content is gonna happen a lot from here on out (I'm not going to say it's "consensual" because of ages, but all parties are into it), referenced drug use.


	20. Chapter 20

Ben and Hux get back to the motel around dusk, having spent the day driving around and talking. They found an old root beer stand off the side of the road and ate hot dogs and ice cream. Hux hasn’t eaten this much in years.

He lies on the bed, still messy from the night before, and exhaustedly stares at the ceiling. His civilian clothes feel strange on him, soft worn fabrics instead of the crisp starch of his school uniform. His old Chucks, which he guesses he grew out of, pinch his toes now. He wonders what other cadets do when they get too big for their civilian attire. Their parents must buy them new clothes. Every scrap Hux owns besides his uniform used to be Ben’s.

He promised he wouldn’t let the academy get under his skin, but the mussed sheets beneath him bother him more than they should. Ben’s—Leon’s—keys are too close to the edge of the table. The curtain needs closed all the way and the door locked. All things Hux wouldn’t have noticed before or cared about. It hasn’t even been six months. Hux has no idea what two more years of this will do to him.

His thoughts stop short when Ben climbs on top of him, kisses the worry right off his lips. “I’ll never get tired of this,” he says, trailing down Hux’s neck.

And, oh, this is really happening now, Hux thinks. They don’t have...supplies, and Hux hasn’t thoroughly drained Toph of all the information he needs anyway, and—

“If you don’t want to, that’s fine,” Ben says, apparently reading his mind.

“Maybe not...everything,” Hux replies. He doesn’t want to have cause to imagine gaping canyons. And then before he can think better of it: “You haven’t—with anyone, have you?”

“Of course not. Have you?”

“No.” Hux chooses not to include manipulatively dry humping a national chess champion in a storage room.

Ben kisses him again, reaches between them and palms Hux’s erection. Hux’s mouth falls open and his hips, of their own volition, jerk toward Ben’s touch. 

“So there’s not a problem,” Ben says. 

“No—no problem.”

Hux doesn’t understand how Ben can be so confident about this without having done it before. Then again, he reasons, physicality is Ben’s shining forte. He could have been a dancer or a runner or an actor or any other number of things besides a shortstop and now the bronze of some high school drug ring.

“Stop thinking. This isn’t chess,” Ben says, still rubbing Hux through his jeans. He thumbs open Hux’s fly and slides his hand in, strokes Hux, for the first time, skin against skin; yet Hux has imagined this so thoroughly and for so long it doesn’t feel new. 

“We should—” Hux begins, tugging at Ben’s shirt. His voice sounds different, deeper, like it does in the mornings. 

They undress each other—with no small amount of giggling—until they’re back under the covers and Hux can feel every inch of Ben lined against him. The giggles turn into gasps turn into moans. A slick noise, Ben holding them both in his enormous hand. Stuttered movements interspersed between steady rhythms. Hux doesn’t think anything at all except  _ Ben _ , which he speaks in desperate whispers against Ben’s lips.

Their string still isn’t short enough, Hux thinks, mind obliterated by pleasure, but if he keeps climbing, closer and closer to the edge, when he tips over it will finally be enough. The heady itch, the blinding need, will finally be satisfied. 

Hux finishes, a cracked moan low in his throat as he pulses over Ben’s fist. Ben comes after, silently, while kissing Hux and pausing to breathe and then kissing him again. Aftershocks clutched in each other’s embrace and they kiss and kiss and kiss. Until the mess gets tacky and they climb into the dreary motel shower with the lukewarm piss-poor water pressure and kiss and kiss and kiss some more. Until Hux’s lips feel as battered as the rest of him.

After, they try to play cards but Hux’s nudity drives Ben to distraction, and he ends up crawling on top of Hux again, hard again, rutting against him, then sliding between his legs and pulling him into his mouth. This is a fantasy Hux couldn’t have imaged as good and new as it feels. Hux wills himself to keep obscene noises from escaping him. Ben’s hands grip his thighs as Hux spills down Ben’s throat and he  _ swallows it. _ Hux finds the thought of being consumed so overwhelming, he nearly climaxes again from the idea alone.

He takes no time in reciprocating, lying Ben down on the bed and just tasting him first. He’s bigger than Hux, and in the back of his mind Hux knows one day this will be a very good thing, but for now it poses an obstacle. He manages to concoct some technique that involves both his hand and mouth, which apparently works, because Ben comes quickly, all over Hux’s fist and chin. It’s Hux’s turn to lick him up, and when they kiss again they taste like each other. 

♠

“Can I tell you now?” Ben asks, later. Only a strip of light shines into the room, across Ben’s chest that Hux traces with his finger. 

“You don’t have to,” Hux says. “I already know.”

Ben takes Hux’s hand and kisses his palm, his wrist—like Toph, but Hux can feel his pulse quicken this time, his heart beating harder to creep closer to Ben’s lips. 

“But I want to say it,” Ben murmurs against Hux’s skin. “I want to hear you say it too.”

“Why?”

Ben captures his mouth again. Hux wonders what life would be like if they could kiss whenever they wanted. He wonders if that’s what happiness is, or if he’d get so used to the idea of freedom that he’d find something else to be miserable about instead. 

A glint of neon lights Ben’s eyes as he stares down at Hux. “I need something to take home with me,” he explains. “I need something real.”

“Tell me,” Hux says, nervous, even though he shouldn’t be.

Ben cradles Hux’s face in his hand, thumbs over his lip. “I love you, Hux. I’ve been in love with you my whole life.”

Hux thought he’d gotten over crying all the time, but he hasn’t. All he’s ever wanted was to be loved by somebody instead of just an inconvenience to them, and somewhere in his heart he knew Ben loved him, but to say it outright, unabashed; to be loved happily instead of begrudgingly or out of obligation...it’s too much. All he can do is bury his face in Ben’s neck and hope he doesn’t notice. 

Ben rubs his back through the pregnant silence, until Hux gathers up his heart and courage, and barely manages, “I love you too.” 

“Then why are you sad?” Ben’s voice is gentle. He wipes Hux’s tears away, like he always does.

“Because it’s not fair,” Hux says. He has withstood neglect, poverty, abuse, disdain, humiliation, hopelessness, desperation, and imprisonment. For once he is angry. Tomorrow Ben will leave him again, and even when they see each other next, it will be hurried and hushed. Like it always has been. Like it always will be. “The world will tear us apart our entire lives and there’s nothing we can do about it.”

“Sure there is.” Ben kisses the tears from Hux’s cheeks, until he trails down to his lips again. His tongue tastes like salt, and Hux lets his eyes flutter closed while Ben kisses him into calmness. “We can love each other anyway.”

♠

They check out of the motel the next morning; Ben drives Hux to the gas station across from Carida. Hux is back in his bloody uniform and they eat candy for breakfast while listening to the radio. 

“How did you get away from Artie and Carlton for two days?” Hux asks, his mouth full of peanut M&Ms.

Ben pops one in his mouth and says, “I just...left.”

Hux nearly chokes. “You what? And you didn’t tell anyone? Aren’t they looking for you?”

“Probably.”

“What if they call the police?”

“They probably did that too.”

“Won’t you get in trouble? Won’t you—”

“Hux,” Ben says, taking his hand. “I’ve spent the past year under house arrest. They’ve taken away the only thing that matters to me. There’s nothing else they can legally do.”

Hux relaxes a bit. “That’s true.”

After a few more minutes of silence except for a song on the radio by The Verve, Ben asks, “Do you know what caller ID is?”

“No idea.”

“It’s this thing you can buy, and hook up to your phone, and it tells you who’s calling before you answer.”

“Witchcraft,” Hux says, downing the rest of the bag.

“Obviously my mom bought one as soon as she found out they existed.”

“Which means…”

“You can’t call anymore. I can’t think of a good reason why Carida would be calling the house.”

Hux’s stomach sinks. His mind races at some plausible lie Ben could tell, but nothing comes. Instead he asks, “What about Leon?”

“Leon’s in AP calc and my mom loves him. Says he’s a good influence.”

Hux scoffs and mutters, “Figures.”

“Are you jealous?”

“No,” Hux says. He’s a damn hypocrite.

“He’s not gay. Or my type.”

“You have a type?”

“Of course I have a type.” Ben rips into the bag of gummy bears Becker’s roommate traded for a single smoke. “Tall, conniving gingers who give good head.”

Hux can feel the tips of his ears catch on fire. 

Ben laughs at him. “You’re so cute.”

“Shut up,” Hux says, and throws a gummy bear at him.

They proceed to have a candy fight that derails into more making out since nobody’s around. Ben tastes sweet this time and Hux gets hard again even though they got each other off before they checked out of the motel. Ben gets a little carried away, a little rougher, and sucks a mark onto Hux’s neck that makes him cry out in a weird kind of pleasure-pain. 

When Ben tears himself away to adjust his erection more comfortably, Hux asks, “So what’s the plan?”

“We could keep meeting here,” Ben says. His voice is deeper than normal, and Hux wants to climb on top of him and rut shamelessly against the bulge in his pants. It astounds him that he ever managed to stifle these urges, let alone for so long. “At a certain time maybe.”

“I could do Saturdays between morning and evening count.”

“Every other. So it looks less suspicious.”

Hux hates the thought of spending two weeks at a time not communicating with Ben at all, but it’s something, at least. “Alright,” Hux agrees.

An hour later, Ben’s goodbye isn’t as heartbreaking as a  _ Bye, Hux _ , but not as satisfying as an  _ I’ll see you tomorrow _ . “I’ll see you in two weeks,” he says, and kisses Hux one last time. And then another last time. And then a third last time. 

“See you in two weeks,” Hux replies before climbing out of the Benz.

Ben peels out of the parking lot in an unnecessary dramatic flair and speeds down the road. Hux looks both ways before jogging across the street toward the broken fence.

♠

Hux finds Toph under a tree in the direct path from the fence-gap to the school, reading a dog-eared copy of  _ Ulysses _ . 

Toph glances up as if he hadn’t noticed Hux’s approach. “Lack of virginity is a good look on you.” 

“We didn't...you know,” Hux says. He takes a seat beside Toph, against the tree so that their shoulders are touching. Toph’s shoes are discarded beside him and his feet are coated in grass stains and dirt.

“That spectacular hickey on your neck says otherwise.”

Hux reaches up to his throat and touches it. He can still feel Ben’s mouth on him, his teeth. Hopefully everyone will lump it in with the rest of his bruises. “We did...other stuff. I just wasn't ready.” 

Toph makes a thoughtful sound. “It does take an excessive amount of hygiene and preparation.” After a pause in which he closes his book and scrutinizes Hux, he adds, “My first time was with a guy I called Altar Boy Brian. I was fourteen. We fucked in a confessional.”

“How was it?”

Toph breathes a wistful sigh and closes his eyes. “There's nothing quite like the taste of rebellion on a repressive blonde’s lips.”

“Did you love him?”

“‘Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, the appetite may sicken, and so die.’”

“Is that a yes?”

“It’s an I-don’t-know.”

 

On impulse, Hux asks, “Are you jealous of Ben?”

Toph stares at him with something that might, on other people, be remorse, but Hux doesn’t think him capable of it. “Do you want my jealousy?”

“I don’t know,” Hux answers honestly.

Toph smiles but it looks flat and doesn’t reach his eyes, like a drawing on paper. “I’m whatever you want me to be, red.”

 

♠

Later, after Hux has said all he’s willing to say about his weekend away, and the evening count bell rings, Toph stands and wipes off the errant grass from his pants before stepping into his shoes. “Come on, we have some cadets to thank.”

Hux stands too and follows him back toward the school. “Why?”

“Getting you out of count was more or less an act of god.” Toph pauses and adds, “Well, an act of me, which is close enough.”

“How did you do it?”

“Four gingers, a handful of unobservant guards, tricky timing, and truly inspiring execution.”

“So you replaced me.”

“Right, but given the distance between resident halls, and time between counts, I had to provide a distraction in my hall—a much overdo emotional breakdown which, bonus, gets me out of Naval Sciences for therapy. Ginger-one, post-count, escaped to the next hall, to cover for ginger-two who was on his way to cover for ginger-three, who was standing in for you.”

“What about the fourth ginger?”

“He was an emergency ginger—ginger-prime, if you will—already in your hall, who would have had to risk being counted twice by Ramirez, which was plan B if the first three gingers failed.”

“So it worked, is what you’re saying.”

“Impeccably. But it was a pain in the ass, so we probably can’t pull it off again.”

Hux ignores his guilt by asking, “What deals did you have to make to get everyone’s help?”

Toph gives him a sidelong look. “I didn’t make any deals.”

“How?” 

“They’re my friends. They did it because I asked them.”

Hux considers this. “So you’re saying loyalty begets acquiescence.”

“Oh my god,” Toph says, laughing. “Every interaction is a transaction for you, isn’t it? Everything is a game, and your prize for winning is Ben. That’s so fucked up.”

“That’s not true.” Hux shoves his hands in his pockets, shrugs up his shoulders, and refuses to humor the idea. “Not all  _ our _ interactions are transactions. Where do you fit in?”

Toph smiles at him, as if Hux’s accused sociopathy has no bearing on his affections. “I’m still trying to figure that out.”


	21. Chapter 21

The entire regiment appears to believe that Hux is some kind of badass, beat-down-enduring, mysterious-hickey-obtaining womanizer. Although the cigarettes have permanently run out, Hux now receives candy on occasion. Cadets offer to carry his books and do his homework for him. They ask him for favors: deal with this bully, get that guy fired, _write a letter to this girl I like, make me sound romantic._

Hux declines all of it. He can’t deal with everyone’s bullies, he lacks the power to get anyone fired, and he doesn’t know the first thing about girls. His apparent lack of interest in his reputation just makes him grow into something akin to a messiah.

The next two weeks slog by. Toph is busy gearing up for graduation, so Hux spends most of his time with Mitaka, who tends to walk a step or two behind him. He feels less like a friend and more like an assistant of some kind; he even shoos cadets away who want to talk to Hux while he’s busy. He doesn’t sit down across from Hux at the library, rather stands like a bodyguard and says things like, “O’Connell is studying for a physics exam, please make your request in writing.” Hux feels bad that Mitaka appears to be working for him, so he begins more or less paying him in candy.

“Hey,” Toph says to Hux in the resident hall while he’s headed to his dorm. Mitaka is following and Toph gives him a confused look before glancing back at Hux. “What’s with the whole _Godfather_ thing? Do I need an appointment to talk to you?”

“Y—” Mitaka begins.

 _“No,”_ Hux says.

“Man, I wish things had been like this for me when I started here. How did this even happen? It’s like you’re magic or something.”

They reach Hux’s dorm and Toph stands in his path.

“Listen,” Toph says. “Can I talk to you?” He looks at Mitaka. “Alone?”

Hux tells Mitaka, “Can you give us a minute?”

Mitaka frowns slightly, and Hux adds, “You can, uh...keep watch for us?”

Mitaka looks much more pleased with this, so he continues standing outside while Hux and Toph shut themselves into the room.

“I haven’t told anyone this, but—”

Scandalized, Hux interrupts, “You’re gay.”

“Will you—look, I’m trying to be serious for once.”

Hux sets his books on the desk. “I’m all ears.”

“I’m not joining up after I graduate.”

“Don’t you...have to?”

“Not technically. And I told them I was gay so they don’t really want me anyway.”

“That’s brave of you.”

Toph smiles at him, one of the brief glimpses of authenticity he seems to reserve only for Hux. “I learned it from the best.”

Hux ignores the blush that creeps up his face and asks, “Why is it a secret?”

Toph sits down on Mitaka’s bunk. He looks almost human like this, facing the real world after four years of confinement. No wonder most cadets join up after—it’s almost easier to maintain more of the same, at the risk of your life, than become a civilian. Then again, Hux reasons, that’s more or less the point.

“I don’t want to talk to these people once I’m out,” Toph explains. “I don’t want anything to do with this place anymore. Or the family who fucking put me here.”

Hux sits down beside him, too close for the length of the bed, so their knees are touching and Hux can see the gentle curve of Toph’s ear, his sharp profile, tan skin and the barest dusting of freckles.

“Why are you telling me?” Hux asks.

Toph takes Hux’s hand and threads their fingers together. Hux shouldn’t let him, but he can’t bring himself to pull away. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Hux offers a derisive laugh. “Surely you had something more poetic planned than that.”

“No,” Toph says, staring at their hands. “The way I feel about you is an ugly thing.”

“Toph,” Hux begins, ready to remind him—again—he’s spoken for.

Toph closes his eyes, squeezes Hux’s hand. “Ben. I know.”

They sit in silence, Hux unsure what to say or do, until Toph says, “You have my jealousy. Consider it a gift.”

“I don’t want your jealousy, Toph.”

Toph glares at him. “Then what do you want?”

“Nothing,” Hux says, glaring back. “I want Ben. That’s all I’ll ever want.”

“Do you know how fucking ridiculous that is? It’s not sweet or romantic. It’s obsessive. The kind of love that’ll kill you.”

“Then it’s the kind of love worth dying for.” Hux lets go of Toph’s hand. “I don’t think someone like you could understand it.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’re empty, Toph,” Hux says. The words spill out of him like he’d been holding them in too long. “There’s nothing inside you but other people’s words. You act how you’ve been taught to act. You play chess based on moves you learned in books instead of using any kind of actual strategic insight. You parrot back opinions from articles you’ve read in _The New Yorker_. You’ve never had an original thought in your life. You’re nothing but a fucking puppet—”

Toph grabs Hux by the shirt and kisses him. Unthinking, Hux kisses back. Toph’s mouth is smaller than Ben’s. He kisses more neatly but roughly, more experienced; his tongue presses into Hux’s mouth, sends a his mind into a tailspin, too focused on the present to remember the past. Toph smells better than Ben and he kisses better than Ben and he’s smarter than Ben and makes Hux laugh harder than Ben and challenges Hux more than Ben—

Ben. _Ben_ , he reminds himself.

Hux pushes Toph away. Toph looks at him with an expression of pure vulnerability. His lips are red and shiny and Hux wants to kiss him again but he restrains himself.

“I want you, Hux,” Toph says. “That’s my original thought. It’s the only thought in my whole damn head, and I know it’s mine because it’s something I shouldn’t think. Shouldn’t feel. Everything about it is wrong.”

Whatever Hux says now could destroy Toph; it’s intoxicating, holding another person’s heart in his hand. Hux steels his features, the way he used to with his father, and says, “We’re even now.”

Toph’s face falls in understanding—their first bet. He looks like he might cry, but he’s too proud, too aware of the game they’re playing; he wouldn’t let Hux see him like that.

“Fine,” he says, standing from the bed and making his way to the door. “See you at graduation, Hux.”

♠

“God, this is so dangerous,” Ben says, voice strained. “I can’t even reach the gear shift.”

Hux would reply, _Then don’t shift gears_ , but his mouth is full. The gear shift is, in fact, jammed against his ribcage, and his spine is contorted uncomfortably, and the zipper of Ben’s fly is grating his chin, but it’s worth it for the way Ben’s fingers are tugging Hux’s hair and the little moans escaping him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Ben says, and Hux feels the Benz pull over to the side of the road and stop. Ben comes loudly, pulsing down Hux’s throat. When Hux pulls off, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, watching with satisfaction as Ben tucks himself back into his jeans, breathless. “I guess we can cross road head off the list.”

“There’s a list?” Hux asks. He’s still achingly hard in his Dockers.

“Of course there’s a list.”

“What else is on it?”

Ben ticks them off on his fingers. “Church, train, library, airplane, the back of a cop car, every Major League baseball park in the US. And obviously there’s the actual—you know—with you on top, then me on top. Or the other way around, whatever. And bondage, maybe—”

“Jesus,” Hux says.

“Too much?”

“No. I want to do all of it, is all. Like, now.”

“Oh,” Ben says, eyeing Hux’s erection. “Let me…” He leans forward and kisses him, even though they’re pulled over on a stretch of highway that is occasionally passed by trucks, or cars, or recreational vehicles towing a family to their vacation destination. Hopefully they can’t see the filthy way in which Ben bites and sucks at Hux’s throat, or unbuttons his pants to dip his hand into Hux’s boxers and stroke him.

“You like that?” Ben asks, like silk in Hux’s ear. He’s gotten alarmingly assured about sex already, not that Hux is surprised; he wants to hear every dirty thought in Ben’s head, directed at him. He wants to do this forever.

Hux nods, unable to speak as Ben’s massive hand tugs at him in a steady rhythm. Hux has never been good at doing this for himself; Ben is infinitely better at it. Within moments, Hux is gripping the handle of the car door, entire body tensed, and comes jerking his hips into Ben’s hand. Ben kisses the aftershocks away and licks his own hand clean and Hux has never felt so utterly satisfied in his life.

♠

Later, they park in a strip mall lot with two large combo meals and a huge bag of fries between them. Hux checks the clock. They have another hour before he has to be back for evening count.

“What happened last time?” Hux asks around a bite of cheeseburger. He meant to ask earlier but conversation hadn’t been his highest priority upon climbing into the Benz that morning.

“You mean when I got back?” Ben says.

“Yeah.”

“Oh, nothing.”

Hux gives him a sidelong look. “I don’t believe that.”

“I mean the police were there and stuff. And my dad. My mom was pissed. Carlton cried.”

“What did you tell them?”

Ben shrugs. “That I was at math camp.”

Hux almost chokes on his burger laughing. He manages to swallow and says, “No way.”

“It’s none of their fucking business, you know? I’m almost seventeen. I’m pretty much an adult.”

“What did they say?”

“Get this: my mom threatened to send me to military school.”

“No _way_.”

“Yeah, and she asked why I was laughing, and I told her you went to military school but I refused to tell her which one, so if she wanted to ship me off, she’d have to risk me going to school with you. I thought her head was going to explode.”

“That’s beautiful,” Hux says, grinning.

“She’d never do it though. Can’t have nannies in military school.”

“What’d you tell them about today?”

“Nothing. They’re all still so mad I don’t think they care anymore what I do on the weekend as long as I show up for school on Monday.” Ben opens a ketchup packet with his teeth, but it ends up spewing everywhere, and he says, “Shit. Can you get me a napkin? Glove compartment.”

Hux opens it—the inside is meticulously organized, the car manual at the bottom, and a neat stack of napkins on top.

And a lighter.

And a pipe, used, with several bags of what look like the contents of Toph’s Ronald Reagan biography.

And a gun.

Hux hands him a couple napkins and forcibly quiets the budding dread in the pit of his stomach.

As Ben wipes himself clean, Hux asks, “Why are you driving a car with a gun and drugs in it?”

“It’s not like they’re _my_ gun and drugs,” Ben says, carelessly, like it’s not a big deal at all.

“What if you get pulled over?”

Ben shrugs. “Hadn’t really considered it.”

“You hadn’t considered what might happen if you get pulled over and searched, driving someone else’s car, while it has illegal substances in it and a loaded weapon that is not registered to your name.”

Ben snorts a laugh and says, “Then you really don’t want to know what’s in the trunk.”

“Ben!”

“Come on, Hux. Lighten up. I work with this stuff every day. DC cops have way worse shit to deal with than dime bags and handguns.”

Hux feels sick. “You don’t...do drugs, do you? And you don’t use the gun, right?”

“It’s all part of the job. I get high with Leon sometimes. I carry the gun for protection.” When Hux doesn’t reply, Ben says, “Look, you go to military school. You’re leading the fucking Carida mafia or something. The shit you handle is way more dangerous than mine.”

Hux shot his first gun last week in an introductory lesson to next year’s weaponry focus. He liked it. He really, really liked it. He doesn’t want to admit how much he’s looking forward to starting his junior year.

“I’ve never done drugs,” Hux manages. Nothing about this conversation is sitting well with him, but Ben continues to eat like they’re talking about card tricks or baseball.

“Why not? It’s fun. I figured you had since you got them so easy.”

Hux doesn’t know why he says it, maybe out of malice, or disappointment, or jealousy. “I got drugs so easily because there’s a boy who’s in love with me. I didn’t find the gap in the fence, he showed it to me. He’s the one who got me out of count, too.” Then he looks Ben in the eye and adds, “His name is Toph and he kissed me.”

Ben stops chewing. “What.”

“He kissed me, and I kissed him back.”

Ben is silent for the longest time in probably his whole life, but at least now they’re both taking this conversation seriously. Hux continues staring at the gun and drugs in the open glove compartment.

“You lied to me,” Ben says.

“You lied to me too.”

“No I didn’t.”

“You told me you weren’t doing drugs. You told me they didn’t give you a gun.”

Ben goes silent again, until he finally admits, “I’m sorry, okay. It’s so hard being away from you, and I just—everything feels so sharp, you know? Sharp edges everywhere, all the time, whenever I’m not with you. And I just want to dull them a little sometimes. I’m so sick of not being in control of anything, and the drugs don’t help but they make me forget. I can just close my eyes and pretend you’re asleep next to me, and if I lay real still I won’t wake you up.”

“So it’s just pot, right?” Hux asks, even though he doesn’t want to know the answer.

Ben shakes his head. “I tried coke once too. I didn’t like it. I ended up punching a hole through Leon’s wall. He thought it was hilarious.”

“Toph looks like you,” Hux blurts out. Ben glances at him, confused, and Hux adds, “He’s graduating this year, so he won’t be around anymore.”

“What kind of a name is Toph?”

“It’s short for Christopher.”

“That’s dumb,” Ben says. “Was he a good kisser?”

Hux lies, even though he shouldn’t. “Terrible.”

“Do you like him?”

Hux doesn’t lie, even though he should. “I don’t know. I think I’m only using him because I miss you.”

Ben makes a low, aggravated noise like a growl and punches the steering wheel. “None of this would be happening if we’d just stayed in Indiana. We could have graduated and gotten an apartment together and worked shitty retail jobs to pay the rent. Get one of those civil partnerships or something.” He leans back against the headrest and closes his eyes. “I just want to go home, Hux.”

“Me too,” Hux says. Life had been so much simpler living with his mother, down the street from Ben, mere yards from the quarry and nothing but freedom surrounding them.

Ben turns the ignition and says, “I guess we should head back.”

Hux doesn’t argue. They drive in silence to the gas station. When Ben parks again, Hux tells him, “I don’t want to leave you like this.”

“I don’t either.”

A pause, and Hux says, “I still love you.”

Ben takes Hux’s hand and gives him a sad smile. “I love you too.”

They kiss, sweet and easy like how it should be, but with a shadow of something bitter. Something broken. When they pull away, Ben says, “I’ll see you in two weeks.”

♠

Two weeks later, Hux waits behind the gas station all day.

Ben never shows.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See end note for warnings

Carida’s graduation ceremony is the biggest event Hux has ever been to. The football stands are filled with people. Hux sits in the front row in a seat saved for him by Mitaka and his friends, and is immediately handed several bags of candy. Mitaka hovers his hand above Hux’s brow to shade his eyes from the sun, but Hux bats it away.

They have a clear view of all the graduating cadets in their dress uniforms. Toph looks particularly stunning, and Hux hates that about him.

Toph’s valedictorian speech starts off heartfelt, funny, and compelling. Hux hates that too.

He especially hates how Toph makes eye contact with him during the bit where he bullshits his favorite part of military academy life: the meaningful friendships he’s made. “Carida builds unshakeable bonds between boys, who later grow into men, where those bonds can only strengthen,” he says in the middle of his speech.

But later, near the end, when almost everyone has stopped listening: “The undulating sanctity of honor penetrates us. We stand strong and erect against the forces of our enemies, and our hearts arouse a great, throbbing need in us—”

Admiral Tarkin yanks at his arm. Toph throws up peace signs as he’s dragged offstage and shouts, “Make love not war!”

Several dozen cadets, mostly Toph’s friends, offer their wild, raucous applause. Even Hux finds himself clapping. The parents of the graduating cadets all look very confused. Tarkin returns to the podium and clears his throat. In his unwavering monotone, he says, “Thank you, Cadet Crews for that...speech.”

He proceeds to read out the names of all the cadets, who come up to the podium, shake his hand, some big wig from the government’s hand, on down the line. When Toph receives his diploma, he shakes Tarkin’s hand, and gently kisses him on the cheek before sauntering away with his arms raised in victory. Tarkin is visibly taken aback by this.

Toph blows kisses to the crowd as he returns to his seat, and Hux smiles for the first time in a long while.

♠

The senior resident halls are pure chaos as graduated cadets pack their things and meet their parents outside. Hux manages to lose Mitaka somewhere near the mess and finds a quiet spot in the library to play chess by himself. He’s only halfway through his game when familiar hands grip the back of the chair across from him.

“O’Connell,” Toph says, formally.

“Crews,” Hux replies. He looks up at Toph who is still—unfortunately—in his dress uniform, his hat cocked to the side.

“Did you like my speech?”

“I did. I especially liked the pornographic bits, and the end there, when you got dragged offstage.”

“Those were my favorites too.” Toph, in a genius move, slides the black bishop halfway across the board.

“I take it you’re leaving?” Hux asks, toppling a white pawn with a knight.

“I thought I’d say goodbye.”

Hux continues staring at the board so he doesn’t have to look at Toph again.

“I don’t want this to be goodbye, though,” Toph adds. “I don’t want to lose touch with you, even at the sacrifice of touching you.”

Hux finally does look at him again, against his better judgment. “What do you expect from me? I’m trapped here for two more years.”

Toph rolls the base of the queen around before inching it three squares up. “When it comes time, I want you to follow your heart. It’ll lead you back to me.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Hux asks. He inspects the board. Checkmate.

Toph gives him a wicked smile. “You’ll see.”

♠

Carida’s summer consists of three months of a slightly reduced classload. Hux spends all his time trying to keep his mind occupied, not worried and brokenhearted about Ben ditching him and listing all the things that could have gone wrong. He also doesn’t want to think about how much he secretly misses Toph.

But that’s all he does. All he thinks. Over and over.

He doesn’t leave his bed except for drills, classes, mail call, and count. Mitaka brings him his food and only once asks, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Hux says, picking at the salisbury steak on his tray.

“Do you miss Toph?”

Hux scoffs. “No.”

“Is it the boy you sneak out to go see sometimes?”

Hux stares at him, feeling like he just got caught with a bloody knife in his hand. As far as he was aware, the entire regiment took him for a ladies’ man. The thought of him being out, here, in this place—where he’s heard rumors they’ve covered up flat-out killings, condemned the victims and rewarded the murderers—terrifies him almost more than anything else. He trusted Toph, even though he shouldn’t have, just like Toph shouldn’t have trusted him. He didn’t understand the severity of the school’s pro-bullying policy at the time. For Toph to have outed himself to the administration for the sake of ditching his military career took a level of bravery Hux refuses to admire.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hux mutters, and takes a bite of his food. It tastes like textureless dirt, and he can barely swallow it.

“It’s okay,” Mitaka says. “I won’t tell anybody.”

Hux still doesn’t respond, and Mitaka adds, “I have a crush on Phillips.”

“You shouldn’t be telling me this. It’s dangerous.” It’s also cruel, but Hux is only looking out for Mitaka’s safety. He can’t imagine what his life would have been like if he hadn’t been able to express himself and his desires with someone he trusted.

“But I feel safe around you.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

He can’t think of a good reason. He’d already taken a thorough beating for Mitaka, and he’d do it again if he had to.

“You just shouldn’t,” Hux says, possibly with too much resentment. “The people you trust most will always find a way to betray you.”

He doesn’t want to believe his own words. He doesn’t want to think about his dad leaving when he was a baby, or his mom killing herself, or Toph graduating, and he especially doesn’t want to think about why Ben hasn't contacted him.

♠

Saturday. Hux parks himself at the gas station, against the wall and out of sight. The late spring sun beats down on him.

He waits. Practices card tricks. He waits. Plays with his butterfly knife. He waits. Reads Ben’s letters and Toph’s notes again. He waits.

The sun begins to set. He asks a guy leaving the gas station what time it is. The guy tells him a quarter till seven.

Hux heads back to the fence.

♠

May passes. Hux calls Padme once every couple days; there’s never an answer. He doesn’t leave a message in case Mr. Solo checks it, and he doesn’t dare try Ben’s phone because of the caller ID. He sticks around for mail call every day and never gets a letter. He spends every other Saturday at the gas station.

June. Hux’s birthday comes and goes. No one notices. He heads to the gas station after count but comes back by lunch.

July. Hux resigns himself to believing Ben doesn’t want him anymore. He checks the gas station during lunch hour just in case, and then comes back.

August. Hux stops going to the gas station completely.

He has nothing to lose, he reasons. He picks up the phone and calls Ben’s house. Carlton answers, and Hux asks, “May I speak with Ben please?”

A pause. “Who is this?” Carlton demands. “What do you want?”

“I—” Hux stops. Collects himself. He doesn’t want to get Ben in trouble. “Is he alright?”

“Who is this?”

“No one, I just want to make sure—”

“If you’re one of  _them_ , you can let whoever you work for know that we want nothing to do with it.” Carlton disconnects.

Hux doesn’t try calling again.

♠

Full classes start back up. The cadets who received authorization to go home for summer return. Hux pulls some strings with the cadet who assigns the dorms—two packs of cigarettes and three bags of Skittles—to stay bunked with Mitaka for his junior year, even though they’re not the new kids anymore, and Hux has to stay in the underclassmen hall.

“You’re starting to lose your cred,” Mitaka says one night from the lower bunk. It’s late, but Hux has been sleeping even less than usual, instead creating elaborate scenarios about where Ben is, what he’s doing, getting up the gall to call Ben’s house again and demand to speak with him. He hates to admit he’s afraid of finding out the truth, that Ben doesn’t want anything to do with him anymore. That he’s gotten too busy working with Leon. That he was too hurt by Hux’s confession about Toph.

“What?” Hux asks.

“You haven’t done anything in a long time. People are starting to think you’re a fraud.”

“I don’t care what they think of me.”

“It’s not just that,” Mitaka explains. “If you look powerless, the bullies will target you because they’ll think you’re weak. And then they’ll start beating us all up because they think we’re not protected anymore.”

“Who is ‘us all’?”

“You know, kids like us. Freaks.”

“We’re not freaks, Mitaka.”

“I know that, but most people don’t.”

Hux considers it. “So what do you recommend?”

“Get back in the game. Phillips has this guy Cohen after him and needs it taken care of.”

“And you’re not at all suggesting this for the sake of your relationship with Phillips.”

Mitaka shifts around and the bunk shakes a little. “I mean, maybe. I don’t know.”

“What does Cohen want?”

“Nothing, is the thing. Phillips’ brother graduated last year and he used to pick on Cohen, so now Cohen is getting his revenge by torturing Phillips.”

“What’s he doing?”

“Knocking his books out of his hands. Tripping him in the hallway. Wedgies, swirlies, all that stuff.”

“That sounds too basic for me to be getting involved with.”

A silence, and Mitaka adds, “There’s something else.” More shifting around, until he’s standing, chin propped on his arms on Hux's bunk, his voice quiet and close: “Cohen...does things to him.”

Hux pauses. “Define ‘things’.”

“You know...bad things. Touches him and stuff, when...when Phillip doesn’t want him to.” Mitaka’s voice sounds strained, like he’s trying not to cry. “I’m worried about him, Hux.”

Hux turns on his side, away from Mitaka, and says, “I’ll take care of it.”

♠

Cohen is a smarmy-looking boy that reminds Hux of a praying mantis. He has an overbite and acne, but is thankfully not much larger than Hux.

If Hux had more time to prepare, and less seething anger, he may have planned their first interaction more delicately. As such, he waits outside Foxtrot’s Naval Science class and sticks his foot out when Cohen walks by. Cohen trips, lands hard, books and loose leaf papers flying. A crowd immediately circles around them. Hux puts his boot on Cohen’s back to keep him from getting back up.

“What the fuck!” Cohen shouts, struggling. He manages to push himself a couple inches from the floor, and Hux shoves him back down.

“I’m going to need you to keep your hands to yourself from now on,” Hux tells him. “And whatever else.”

“What are you fucking talking about?” He lifts up once more and Hux puts nearly all his weight between Cohen’s shoulders. Cohen continues to struggle uselessly.

“I’d rather not name the victims of your assault. You know what you’ve done and to whom you did it.”

“Get the hell off me,” Cohen says. “Face me like a man.”

Hux lets off, and Cohen gets awkwardly to his feet. He shoves Hux against a wall; Hux lets him.

“It’s you,” Cohen says, looking him up and down. “I’ve heard about you.”

“Then you know not to fuck with me.”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

“You should be.”

Cohen sneers, like a puppy that thinks it’s larger than it actually is. “We’re gonna take this outside.” The bell rings signaling a class change. Cohen picks up his books and says, “East wing alley. Four hundred.”

♠

Hux is waiting outside the east wing smoking a cigarette. Cohen and his friends shove their way outside. Instead of acknowledging them, Hux takes one final drag and drops it to the ground before snubbing it out with his boot.

He looks up to see Cohen staring him down. “Have you ever been in a fight before, Cohen?”

Cohen wasn’t expecting that. He glances at Hux defensively and says, “Yeah.”

“Outside of combat training.”

A longer silence. “Duh.”

Hux shoves his hands in his pockets. “Have you ever gotten the absolute shit beaten out of you?”

Cohen scoffs and his friends start laughing. “No.”

“Good for you,” Hux says with a nod. “I have.”

“I heard.”

“So I’m going to offer you a deal. You leave my friends alone—”

“You mean your freak brigade?”

“Yes, I do mean my freak brigade. You’re going to leave my friends alone, and I won’t do anything to put you in the hospital.”

Louder laughter from Cohen’s friends.

“How about I put you in the hospital instead,” Cohen says, stupidly.

“You can try,” Hux replies.

Cohen wastes no time clocking Hux across the jaw. Hux keeps his hands in his pockets, lets his neck snap to the side, and stumbles back a step. It’s a good punch, he thinks. Jimmy’s was better; he drew blood. Schmidt was also okay, but lacked Jimmy’s sadistic finesse. This punch won’t even bruise.

“One more,” Hux says. “Wherever you like.”

Cohen looks at him like most cadets look at the disgusting food they serve in the mess. He socks Hux in the gut. Hux doubles over, lets out a heavy exhale, and gets dizzy when he straightens again. His hands remain in his pockets. The wind is too knocked out of him to make a clever quip, so he hooks his foot around the back of Cohen’s knee and pulls it toward him in one swift motion. It’s the same move Toph used against Hux in the gym storage room.

Cohen yelps as he loses his balance and falls to the ground, and nearly topples over completely before Hux takes one hand out of his pocket and yanks him back by the hair, exposing his neck. Then he takes Finn’s butterfly knife from his other pocket, flips it open one-handed and presses it to Cohen’s throat. The boys, silent, all take a step back.

“What the fuck,” Cohen spits. “Who brings a knife to a fist fight?”

“The winner,” Hux says. He presses the blade where it looks like it would hurt most. “Now, tell me you’re going to leave my friends alone.”

Cohen glares at him.

Hux presses the knife harder. “Say it.”

“I’ll leave your friends alone.”

“Tell me you will not touch a minor ever again.”

The crowd shifts around uncomfortably. This kind of condemnation is grounds for Hux to get in more trouble than it’s worth, but he’s angry, and he’s in pain, and he wants Cohen to suffer.

“I won’t touch a minor ever again.”

“Tell me you’re scum.”

“I’m scum.”

“And that you’ll be a very good boy from now on.”

Cohen swallows. His Adam’s apple bobs against the blade of the knife. “I’ll be a very good boy from now on.”

Before Hux lets go of him, he slices the knife straight up the slope of Cohen’s cheek. Cohen screams in pain and clutches his face. Blood seeps through his fingers. “Fuck! What was that for?”

Hux flips the butterfly knife closed and pockets it. “So you’ll remember your promises.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brief mention of non-consensual touching.


	23. Chapter 23

On a Friday evening, Hux is huddled in the library working on homework when the PA announces, “Cadet O’Connell, please come to the front office.”

The other cadets give him a wary look, and he tries not to let it show that he has no idea what it’s about. The last time this happened didn’t end well. He closes his books and heads to the office. 

There he finds an intimidatingly tall blonde woman in a leather bomber jacket laughing with the secretary. She does a double-take toward Hux, and exclaims, “My baby!” before wrapping her arms around him. 

Hux hugs her back, tentatively. Her entire body feels like granite, and she smells like leather and motor oil. Hux thinks she might actually be bigger, and stronger, than Ben.

When she pulls away, she grabs Hux by the face and smatters neon pink lipstick kisses all over him. Her long matching nails leave little divots in his skin. Then she directs his face to the secretary and says, “See this face? Look how precious this face is.”

The secretary politely tells her, “If you’ll just sign here, Mrs. O'Connell, he’ll be free to go.”

“Of course,” the blonde woman says, and signs the sheet with a flourish. “You know, most boys don’t get along with their stepmothers. But Huxy and I? We’re like this.” She crosses her fingers, and then Hux sees it—

A tattoo. On her wrist. Of a big, red heart.

“Toph,” Hux says to himself, both angry and a little bit awed.

“What was that, sweetie?” the blonde woman asks, tossing the pen back on the desk. 

“Nothing…” Hux stifles a grimace as he adds, “Mom.”

“Go pack your things, honey,” the woman says with an unnerving smile. “We have a long, fun weekend planned.”

♠

For the first time in months, Hux leaves campus legally. As a guard pats down the blonde woman, he gets a little too close to her leather-clad rear and she tells him, “Watch the hand or I’ll bite it off.”

Hux thinks he likes her.

As they walk toward the visitor parking lot, out of earshot of the guards, she says, “I’m Phasma, by the way.” 

“I take it you’re a friend of Toph’s.”

“Friend,” she says, considering. “That sounds so boring. We’re more like...kindred spirits.”

“I take it you’re a kindred spirit of Toph’s.”

“That I am.”

“Where are we going?”

They reach a motorcycle tucked between two SUVs. In lieu of a response, she starts humming the  _ Cheers _ theme song, then she pulls out a helmet from the back and hands it to Hux. “You’ll need this.”

♠

It’s dark by the time they make it to their destination in what Hux thinks is downtown Baltimore. He’s never been on a motorcycle before and, as he climbs off and pries the helmet from his head, he doesn’t think he wants to again. The ground is still moving underneath him, and nausea churns in his gut.

They’re parked in front of a dingy dive with a flickering sign that reads,  _ Rebellion _ .

“Is this a gay bar?” Hux asks, spotting the rainbow flag on the side of the old brick building. He tries to keep his voice as neutral as possible, but an undercurrent of excitement thrums through him.

Phasma climbs off too, lifting her goggles to her head. She grins at him and says, “The gayest.”

“I don’t think I’m allowed in. I’m only sixteen.”

“It’s a good thing I know the bouncer.”

Hux finds out, shortly thereafter, Phasma  _ is _ the bouncer. She sets him up at a table near the front of a rickety stage. He self-consciously unbuttons and untucks his uniform, rolls up his sleeves like Toph taught him to do. 

A waiter—who is so breathtakingly handsome that Hux can only stare at him wide-eyed and speechless—comes by and brings him a clear drink mixed with red and covered in cherries. 

“Oh, no, sorry,” Hux says, trying to hand the drink back. “I’m not twenty-one.”

The waiter laughs in a way that Hux thinks Greek gods may have laughed. “It’s a shirley temple.”

When Hux stares at him blankly, the waiter adds, “It doesn’t have alcohol.”

“Oh,” Hux says. “Thank you.”

“Thank Toph,” the waiter says with a thousand-dollar smile that Hux has only ever seen in Sears catalogues, and heads back to the bar. Hux has never been so certain of his sexual orientation.

Hux takes a tentative sip. It’s heaven in liquid form, something akin to what it might taste like to dump a bunch of candy in a blender. He wonders if it would be rude to ask for another. 

He feels tremendously awkward sitting alone doing nothing, and doesn’t think it would be appropriate to whip out his knife to play with, or a deck of cards. Instead he watches people steadily filter in: women who look like men, tattooed like Phasma and wearing an array of flannel Hux has only ever seen in his father’s closet. Women with short spiky hair and lots of piercings. Men wearing makeup and glitter and high heels. Groups of goths in all-black and chains. Grunge kids in denim and ripped t-shirts. People in bright neon with sparkling tutus and combat boots—Hux wonders if that’s the ska scene, and if so, he wants to talk to them, because he doesn’t share Toph’s disdain for it. 

No one pays him any mind at all. He’s alone, in a place he’s never been before, with no means of contacting anyone he knows or fleeing somewhere else. Yet despite this, he’s never felt more at home. The floor is sticky and covered in glitter that Hux can’t tell is intentionally decorative or the aftermath of an unfortunate craft project. Unidentifiable crap lines the walls, and the place is dark except for some track lighting. The music plays loudly, with an uncomfortable dissonance, and Hux doesn’t like it, which probably means it’s Sonic Youth or some other band Toph recommended to him months ago.

The lights shift to the stage and the music changes to something louder and with a steady beat. The crowd quiets and a large woman dressed as some kind of cartoon in a green-sequined gown comes on stage.

“Welcome to...” she begins, voice high and breathy, and then in a sultry baritone, “Rebellion.” The audience cheers and Hux looks around, utterly bewildered, for Phasma or anybody else who might explain what’s happening. The handsome waiter wolf whistles. “I am your emcee, Boba Fett, thrilled to be with you here tonight.”

She goes on to introduce the production, which Hux gathers is something akin to a cross-dressing talent show. Boba drops the phrase  _ drag queen _ and Hux finally puts it together, though his concern that Toph still hasn’t appeared continues to grow. He finishes his shirley temple and the handsome waiter brings him another. The sugar is going to his head and he bounces his foot in time to the beat of Madonna’s “Vogue”, which is now being danced to on stage by several drag queens in a flurry of light and color. By the third act, he’s ready to go find Phasma and ask what the hell is going on, when a familiar face graces the stage. Toph is wearing a long black wig and eyelashes with feathers on them, glittering red lipstick that matches what appears to be a corset. Not to mention the stilettos, stockings, and garter belt.

Toph struts offstage, directly toward Hux, and climbs in his lap, straddling his thighs.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Hux says as Toph tilts his chin up.

“Surprise, red,” Toph whispers in his ear. “So glad you followed your heart.” Someone hands him a shot of amber-colored liquid, which he then brings to Hux’s lips and pauses.

It smells like his dad’s house. It must be the music, or Toph’s wild smile and ridiculous outfit, or the motorcycle ride here, or just getting broken out of school. But Hux nods, and parts his lips, and Toph tilts the shot into Hux’s mouth. It burns his throat as he swallows, makes his eyes water, and he coughs. Toph laughs and offers him another. Hux takes it. The song gets near its end and Toph climbs off of him to join the vogue line again.

It takes Hux two more songs before he’s feeling more relaxed, and starts talking to the handsome waiter whose name is apparently James. He’s twenty-two, an actor who didn’t quite make it all the way to New York yet, and Hux tells him—in a way he thinks is polite and not crude—that he is very good-looking. James laughs and says thank you, and Hux is very happy about it.

♠

Hux is being led by the hand up a staircase. He stumbles and rights himself. The hand holding his is soft like his mother’s, but larger than his mother’s, yet still somehow familiar. He gets pulled inside somewhere but before he can register where he is, a pair of arms wrap around him, and he’s tempted to fight them off when he realizes—

Oh. It’s a hug.

“God, I missed you so much,” Toph says. He’s out of his lingerie and makeup now except for a shadow of eyeliner, wearing a tight black t-shirt and jeans, and fuck, he looks almost as good as the handsome waiter whose name Hux already forgets. 

And now he’s smiling at Hux, waiting for him to say something, but all Hux can think is, “You live above a gay bar.”

Hux looks around—it’s a decent apartment. Old. Bare brick walls. An open window letting in the chill autumn breeze. No furniture at all except a ratty green recliner in the corner by a crooked floor lamp. Towers of books are stacked haphazardly around the barren space. The kitchen is part of the main area. Fairy lights are strung up all over. Hux likes it. It’s very...Toph.

“Yeah,” Toph says, in the kitchen now, running the faucet. “I’m not technically allowed to work at the bar, so they give me some cash under the table for performing, and let me live here for free bussing tables.” And now Toph is putting a glass of water in Hux's hand—it’s actually just a mason jar—and saying, “Drink the whole thing.” While Hux does, and Toph adds, “Probably shouldn’t have given you that second shot.”

Hux shrugs, finishes the water, and hands the jar back. “Doesn’t matter.” He’s proud of himself for not slurring his words.

“You weigh like eighty pounds, it kinda does.”

“No, I mean…” Hux makes a vague hand gesture that he hopes explains himself, and repeats, “It just doesn’t matter.”

“Hey,” Toph says, swiping Hux’s hair from his brow and, as always, standing too close. “What’s wrong?”

“I think Ben broke up with me.” 

“What do you mean ‘you think’?”

Hux shrugs. His whole body feels heavy. “He just...stopped showing up to meet me. I haven’t heard from him in months.”

“Why? What happened?”

“I told him about you.” Hux takes a step closer and buries his face in Toph’s neck. Muffled, he adds, “About us.”

Toph holds him and rubs his back and says, “I’m sorry, red. I didn’t know that would happen.”

“Don’t lie, you’re thrilled.”

Toph lets go and gives him a long look. “I could never be happy knowing you’re suffering.”

Hux lets the words settle. They weigh him down in the process. “I’m tired.”

“I was gonna have you take the bed,” Toph says. “I don’t mind sleeping on the floor.” 

Hux shakes his head and pokes Toph in the chest. “Wanna go to bed with you.”

“You know I can’t say no to that.”

“I’m not asking you to.”

Next thing Hux knows, he’s in a bedroom smaller than his dorm room, pulling off his clothes—except for his boxers, of course; he has some semblance of decorum—and sliding into a soft full size bed. Toph has an old quilt for cover, but it’s hard to imagine him as a sentimental person. It’s hard to imagine anyone loves him enough to make him such a thing. 

A dip in the mattress. Toph joins him, a safe distance away. 

“No,” Hux says. “Closer.”

“Hux…” Toph begins. His real name. Toph uses it like a warning.

So Hux slides closer to Toph instead. The room is dark, but Hux tentatively touches Toph’s bare chest, runs his hand down to his stomach. He’s so thin, Hux wonders if he eats enough. If he can afford to eat enough. 

“Kiss me again,” Hux tells him. “Like before. I liked it.” The room is spinning a little. All Hux can see is the glitter of Toph’s eyes. 

Toph swallows hard and says, “I’m not a bad person.” It sounds like an apology, somehow.

“I know you’re not a bad person.”

“But I’m a weak one.” Then he kisses Hux again. Deep, sweet—Hux’s mind flickers into blankness, until he feels himself getting hard, brushing against Toph’s hip. Toph makes more noise than Ben, little moans and gasps. He controls the kiss more, his hand on Hux’s neck, biting and kissing down his throat before meeting his lips again. 

This goes on and on and on, forever, until Hux finds himself saying, “I want you inside me.”

Toph doesn’t quite pull away, but he does smile against Hux’s lips. “I don’t think that can happen tonight, baby.” 

Another nickname. This one falls down his throat and settles dark in his heart. He loves it in the way he loves gambling. In the way he loved watching Schmidt get thrown in the Dungeon and Cohen bleed. In the way he might love Toph. “Why not?”

“I don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret.” 

“But I want to,” Hux replies, trailing his hand down until he gets to the elastic of Toph’s underwear. “I want you to teach me.”

Toph catches him and brings his hand back up. “Then we can talk about it tomorrow.”

Hux makes a frustrated noise that Toph kisses to silence. 

“You told me you trusted me,” Toph says, low and sweet. “Is that still true?”

Hux nods. “Always.”

“Then trust me with this.” Toph kisses him again. The open window brings in the smell of damp dead leaves and burnt firewood; the quilt and their embrace keep them warm together. For the first time since Ben moved away, Hux feels safe and relaxed and cared for. 

It might not be so bad, he thinks, life without Ben. 


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay on this. Life has predictably gotten in the way.

The next morning, Hux comes to awareness thinking he’s in Ben’s old bedroom, because he knows the bed isn’t his and it’s also empty, so Ben must have woken up for his morning run. When he opens his eyes to the high loft ceilings and dark red brick and morning sun shining through a thin window, it takes him nearly a minute to remember the night before.

He sits up and buries his face in his hands. A mild headache twinges his temples and he gets a jolt of pain when he hears the apartment door slam. A moment later, Toph enters the room with two plates in his hand. 

“Morning, sunshine,” he says, thankfully dressed and looking as put-together as always. 

He passes Hux a plate, filled with eggs and bacon and toast and hashbrowns. He climbs into bed beside Hux with his own plate, and Hux asks, “We’re allowed to eat in bed?”

“Of course we’re allowed to eat in bed. It’s my apartment.”

Hux starts eating even though he’s nauseated for some reason and also horribly disappointed in himself, but he doesn’t know why. 

“I can’t help but notice you’re kind of a lightweight,” Toph says.

“I can’t help but notice you’re a drag queen.”

“You liked it.”

Hux tears off a hunk of bread and refuses to acknowledge the temperature of the tips of his ears. “Where did you get all this?” he asks instead.

“Chef downstairs. He likes me.”

“Who doesn’t,” Hux says. He means it as an insult but bizarrely it sounds like a compliment.

Another few moments of silence, where Hux can pretend this is totally normal. And then Toph asks, “Are you mad at me?” 

Hux hadn’t considered it. Toph takes his silence as agreement and adds, “I thought it would be fun, you know, breaking you out of there for a bit. Partying a little. I didn’t think you’d—”

“I’m not mad,” Hux says before Toph can finish his sentence. 

“Oh.”

The food is good—greasy, hot. Worlds better than the mess, not quite as good as Padme’s cooking. They eat in silence, until Hux finally gets the courage to say, “I meant what I said.” He risks a quick glance at Toph before looking away again. “About...you know.”

“You want me to fuck you?” Toph asks, confidence returning in full force.

Hux nods, even though he remembers he’s not wearing a shirt and Toph can probably see him go red all over. “And—I liked what you called me.”

“Baby.”

Hux nods again, but he’s lost his appetite. It’s for the best, because Toph says, “If you really want to do this, we need to talk about it first.”

The anal sex conversation doesn’t turn out to be as awkward as Hux thought it would be. Toph is so casual about it that he can eat at the same time, even gets Hux laughing a bit. He tells Hux horror stories of his own sexual escapades, and adds that girls can be fun too, if he ever wants to experiment a little. 

“You’ve had sex with women?” Hux asks. Their plates are stacked on the floor, and they’re sitting cross-legged, knees to knees.

“Of course I have. I’m not one to limit my options.”

“But I thought you were gay.”

“I never said I was gay. You said I was gay.”

“I’ve never been attracted to a woman.” Hux shouldn’t be admitting as much, but Toph is so easy to talk to. “I haven’t even been attracted to many men.”

Toph runs an idle finger over Hux’s knee. “Are you attracted to me?”

Just Toph’s touch is making Hux antsy again. “Is that even a question?”

“Yes.”

“If you have to know, then...yes, I am.”

Toph leans in and kisses him, a quick thing that leaves Hux wanting more. “My original idea was to show you around the city, but I don’t think we’re going to end up doing that.”

They don’t. They end up in the shower, which has surprisingly good water pressure, kissing under the spray. Hux’s arms are around Toph’s neck, and while he can feel Toph hard against him, he refuses to directly look, unlike how he spent a lifetime gawking at Ben’s body in secret. A click of something Hux doesn’t pay much attention to. Toph trails his hand down until his fingers graze Hux’s ass. Before he can really process it, the slick tip of Toph’s finger is pressing into him, and Hux starts moaning too loudly and pressing back eagerly for more. 

“We’re not in a hurry, baby,” Toph tells him before licking up the water from Hux’s neck. 

“I want it,” Hux says, and he doesn’t care if he sounds stupid, all he wants is  _ more _ .

“Pay attention.” Toph’s finger moves in and out of him slowly. “You gotta start doing this for yourself, okay? Open yourself up sometimes.”

Now Hux is melted against Toph, panting and groaning, grinding filthily against him. Toph grabs him with his other hand, strokes him in time with the movement of his finger, and then adds a second. This one burns a little, feels like a stretch that soon gives way into a sweeter feeling. Toph gets him to the edge quickly, until Hux’s whole body tenses, but then he releases his hold and squeezes just at the base of him until the feeling goes away. Then he does it again. 

“What are you doing?” Hux asks. His voice is completely broken. His knees can barely hold him up.

“Taking my time with you,” Toph says, stroking him slow and easy, making Hux fall apart all over him. Ben liked to rush to the finish line, like a race. Get it done with so they could go again sooner. He didn’t have Toph’s patience, his imagination, his offbeat worldliness.

But the thought of Ben, like it always has, pushes him over the edge—the way he looked under Hux’s hands, the sound of his voice in Hux’s ear, the taste of him on Hux’s tongue. He comes hard, with a shout that seems too loud to have been able to come from him at all. He realizes Toph is whispering to him, “That’s right, baby,” which just makes another wave come over Hux. The shower has started to get cold, he realizes. 

Toph rinses them. Turns the water off. Dries Hux with a towel and, even though it’s only afternoon, takes Hux to bed again. Hux tries to touch him but Toph says, “Don’t worry about me. Just relax.”

He rubs Hux’s back, kisses him all over. Hux feels simultaneously like a god and nowhere near good enough for Toph, certainly not good enough to warrant this kind of affection, this kind of selflessness and adoration. 

“So are we going to…” Hux begins.

Toph shakes his head. Hux feels it against his throat rather than sees it. “Not today. It takes a while.”

“But I want to,” Hux says again, even though he can feel sleep pulling at him. He doesn’t think he’s taken a nap since he was a kid. And even then, he only ever pretended to sleep.

“I know, baby. But I’m not going to risk hurting you.”

Hux thinks he means more than literally, but he doesn’t say anything. He just falls asleep.

♠

They can’t manage to stay dressed long enough to go anywhere, although they do play several rounds of strip chess, which Hux thinks is the best way to play chess ever. The only problem is that they never manage to finish a game. By the end of the night, they’re naked with an abandoned chess game on the bed between them, and Toph pulls out his goddamn Regan biography from under his bed.

Hux wrinkles his nose as Toph packs the clear glass pipe. 

“What?” Toph asks. 

“It’s a terrible habit,” Hux says.

“It’s not a habit so much as a hobby.” He finishes packing it and passes the pipe and lighter to Hux.

Hux shakes his head.

“Suit yourself,” he says, and takes a hit.

Hux watches his face glow with flame as he breathes in. He holds it a few beats and exhales; Hux, surprisingly, recognizes the smell—Ben’s garage, which was known as Mr. Solo’s “man cave.”

“What does it do?” Hux asks.

Toph shrugs, pushes the ash around with the butt of his lighter. “Relaxes you. Or in your case it’ll probably make you paranoid.”

“I’m not paranoid.”

“You’re high-strung.”

“I am not.”

“The fact you’re defensive about it just shows that you are.”

Disgruntled, Hux grabs the pipe and lighter from Toph’s hands and inspects them. “What do I do?”

Toph laughs and takes them back. “We’ll do it the fun way.” He scoots closer to Hux, puts the pipe to his lips and takes another hit. Instead of exhaling this time, he presses his mouth to Hux’s. Hux instinctually parts his lips. The smoke enters his mouth and he breathes it in.

Nothing happens. 

“Am I supposed to feel anything?” Hux asks.

“Not yet,” Toph says with a wide grin. “Give it a minute.”

They do it one more time, but this time Toph slips his tongue in and they’re kissing again. They kiss for so long that Hux starts to think the ground is turning malleable underneath him and they’re sinking into it together, and every part of his body that is touching Toph’s is like a fault line of the earth—together they make the ground crumble away until there’s nothing but space surrounding them.

Toph lies Hux down—the chessboard discarded somewhere—and kisses Hux until his entire body feels like warmth of a crackling fireplace in winter, his arousal a dull kind of insistence meandering toward its inevitable end. 

Before, Hux could ignore the nagging itch at the back of his brain, the one chanting at the pace of his heartbeat,  _ Ben, Ben, Ben _ . But now all the doors are open and Toph is not Ben, will never be Ben, will never have a home in Hux’s heart like Ben. And then there are tears at the corners of his eyes because—

They’re always there, he thinks. They always want to fall. It is so rare that he lets them. 

“Hey,” Toph says, pulling back. He doesn’t wipe the tears away like Ben would, like Ben used to. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Hux says, and turns on his side. 

Toph follows him, lies on his side and faces Hux. Hux has fallen asleep too many nights in this position with Ben. It doesn’t seem right that Toph is doing the same.

Hux doesn’t answer, just squeezes his eyes shut and imagines that it’s Ben’s hand combing through Hux’s hair; it’s Ben who is consoling him; it’s Ben’s apartment they’re in, and Hux can come back whenever he wants.

He thinks maybe he says this out loud. When he opens his eyes, Toph doesn’t look hurt by his confession. 

Instead, he says, “Then pretend I’m him.” He runs a gentle fingertip down Hux’s arm, until he reaches his hand and holds it. “I’ll be him for you.”

“How?” Hux asks in a whisper that threatens to break.

“Tell me what he would do. Tell me how to touch you like he would.”

“He…” Hux begins. This isn’t right. It’s horrible and cruel to both of them, but he finds himself saying, “He would press his nose against mine, and—” Hux brings Toph’s hand to his face, adjusts his thumb so that it’s on his wet cheek.

Toph presses the tip of his nose to Hux’s, and wipes away the tear. Hux closes his eyes; on the other side of his eyelids is Ben, he tells himself. After a moment, he believes it.

“Now say, ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Toph says.

“Not like that. You have to smile when you say it. You have to mean it.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Toph says again, and it sounds like he’s smiling, and Hux is seven years old again walking home from school and waving goodbye to Ben at the crosswalk that parts their paths. 

“Perfect.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Toph says again. 

“Say, ‘I miss you.’”

“I miss you.” This time, Toph needs no instruction; the heavy, needy desperation in his voice is enough to convince Hux that it’s real. If he’d ever doubted Toph’s acting ability, he doesn’t anymore.

“Now kiss me,” Hux says. 

Toph does, but it’s neat and orderly like he always kisses, so Hux pulls away and says, “Kiss...worse.” 

“How?”

“I don’t know. Messier. Bossier. Like you’ve never kissed anyone but me before and you never want to kiss anyone else.”

So Toph does. And it’s—more tongue, more teeth, faster and harder and almost hurts a little—perfect. Hux moans into his mouth and melts into his touch, finds himself getting hard again and rutting against Toph’s hip like he used to with Ben, on those easy nights when they had no idea what they were really doing, just knew it felt good and they wanted so much more of each other like a too-sweet dessert. 

“Tell me what you want, baby,” Toph says.

Hux shakes his head. “He doesn’t call me that.”

“What does he call you?”

“He doesn’t call me anything. In the same way you don’t call yourself anything.”

“How is that the same?”

“Because we’re—” Hux doesn’t have the words for it. Instead he draws his finger from the center of his chest to the center of Toph’s, tracing the string that doesn’t, nor ever will, exist between them. 

Toph nods like he understands, but for all his intellect, Hux doesn’t think he’s ever loved someone like Hux loves Ben, or that he’s even capable of it.

“I miss you,” Toph says again.

Hux’s eyes flutter shut and he lets himself drift through their make-believe, imagines Ben’s enormous hand stroking him instead of Toph’s lithe one. Ben’s thick hair through Hux’s fingers instead of Toph’s thin, soft, perfectly styled and conditioned strands. Ben’s heavy, muscular body pressing him into the mattress. Ben’s mouth kissing down his chest. Ben’s lips wrapped around him. Ben’s fingers, slick and pressing inside of him. 

Hux comes harder than he ever has, shouting Ben’s name. For a beautiful moment, Hux convinces himself he’s back in their motel room, that they’ve earned more time together and the sun will rise soon but they’ll sleep through it, waking only for lazy half-hard rutting and dozing until they get hungry.

The rose-tinted glass shatters when Toph gets up from the bed and goes to the bathroom. Hux can hear him spit in the sink, and the water runs, and then he’s back under the covers before Hux has even caught his breath.

Hux doesn’t offer to reciprocate.


	25. Chapter 25

The weekend at Rebellion isn’t an isolated incident. Phasma picks Hux up on sporadic weekends, averaging out to once a month or so, until he begins anticipating every Friday, glaring down the clock in Naval Sciences. He paces around the front office in hopes to hear the exhaust of a Harley. Most weekends, he returns to the library at nightfall disappointed. He spends his time studying, exercising, skirting the avid attention of his strange pack of underclassmen. But some weekends—

He holds onto Phasma’s waist and watches as the country bleeds into the city. Drinks a little and then dances a lot. Falls asleep tipsy and exhausted before Toph’s shift even ends. Spends Saturday window shopping or eating strange foods or sightseeing. Returns to campus Sunday feeling refreshed and anticipating his next trip.

Toph inquires about their relationship status sometimes, subtly, in a way that Hux can brush off as a  _ hmm _ or easily change the subject. It doesn’t seem fair to Toph that Hux should call him his boyfriend when Ben is still the image he conjures when Toph gets him off. Ben is still Hux’s goal. Ben is still occupying Hux’s heart and mind, and Toph is just a distraction from that, in the way a painkiller numbs a headache, or a glass of water can ease hunger pains.

Carida is on its short winter break; the cadets with families that still want them have gone home for the holidays. Hux has gotten used to being alone, used to wandering the empty hallways of campus. They serve dried-out ham and slimy green beans on Christmas; Hux falls asleep before midnight on New Years. He spends days without speaking a single word out loud.

The Friday before classes start up again. Hux is in the rec, flipping channels on the ancient television reminiscent of the one in his mother’s old apartment. Half of the screen is yellow, and somebody lost the remote, so the channels need changed via buttons under a panel. Hux rarely watches television, in part because he watched too much of it in his childhood, and also because the rec room is usually too filled with arguing cadets to enjoy it.

Hux sits directly in front of the TV, clicking the up-channel button looking for anything to help pass the time. He reaches the nightly news. A picture of a young man expands across the screen. He has dark shaggy hair and sullen face, slightly crooked teeth, and even though he’s smiling, his eyes look dead. Below it reads,  _ MISSING: Leon Wakowski _ , followed by a phone number for anyone who might have information as to his whereabouts.

Hux’s hand falls from the panel. His heart pounds in his throat. Before he can get more information, the segment ends and the news program breaks to commercial. He turns off the television and gets to his feet, nearly runs to the computer lab in the opposite wing. He’s had to take computer courses, but hates them—computers feel awkward and clunky and unreal, and he much prefers the printed word. 

He sits down at a computer and presses the sequence of buttons to make the machine power on. It takes forever, and then longer to connect to the internet, but when Hux finally has a browser window open, he types with shaking hands, www.goggles.com. Wrong site. Goggle.com. Also wrong. Then he finally remembers: google.com. In the search bar, he types,  _ Leon Wakowski Washington DC missing _ .

An article comes up. Hux’s eyes devour the words.

_ Leon Wakowski, 18, missing since Wednesday. If you have seen this man, please call… _

Hux covers his mouth with his hand and sits back in the chair. A picture loads on the monitor, not the one from the news program, but of Leon with his arm around the shoulders of a younger boy who looks like him. The younger boy is wearing a baseball uniform. His brother, probably. An image floods Hux's mind, that this younger brother is Ben's teammate, that this is the mysterious Leon whose car Hux has spent hours inside of.

It can’t be, Hux thinks. He feels sick. The edges of his vision warp and his mind can’t get past the knot of worry in his stomach that something happened to Ben too, that Ben was somehow involved. But Hux could be worrying over nothing. DC is a huge place, there are probably multiple teenaged Leons with baseball-playing younger brothers. This might have nothing to do with Ben at all.

“Cadet O’Connell,” the PA announces, “please come to the front office.”

“Bad timing, Phasma,” Hux mutters, and slams off the computer.

He doesn’t have time for Toph right now. Hux has to pack his things and leave, find Ben, figure out what’s going on. He makes his way to the office, ready to pick a fight with his “mother” so she’ll storm off and leave Hux to his own devices.

When he reaches the office, a monolithic leggy blonde is not waiting for him, but a small woman whose brown hair has grayed more at the temples than last he saw. Her face is blotchy red and a crumpled-up tissue is clutched in her trembling grip. When she looks at Hux, there are tears in her eyes.

“Padme?” Hux says.

“Oh, Hux.” She stands from her chair and hugs him. 

He wraps his arms around her and wonders if she can feel the rapid thudding of his heart. When she lets go of him, she looks him up and down and says, “You’re so tall now.”

“What happened,” Hux replies. Not a question.

“It’s Ben.”

“Where is he? Is he alive? Is he safe?”

She shakes her head. Her voice wavers as she says, “He’s hurt. Badly.” 

“How?”

“We don’t know. He won’t wake up. He won’t—” Padme begins crying, head lowered with the tissue pressed to her face. When she calms, she adds, “I want you to come with me. I want you to be able to see him again, in case...just in case.”

“I can’t,” Hux says. “They won’t let me leave.”

“They will. I contacted your father, he signed off on you leaving with me.”

“What about Ben’s parents?”

“I don’t care. If there’s a chance you can wake him up, if your presence can help pull him through this, it’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

Hux doesn’t know how to tell her the truth. “I’m not sure Ben feels that way about me anymore.”

Padme pauses, stares at him, like he’s speaking another language. “What?”

“I haven’t heard from him in months.”

“That can’t be true.”

“It is.”

Her face steels into resolve. “It doesn’t matter. Whatever happened is trivial compared to what’s happening now. You’re smart boys, you’ll get past it.” When Hux doesn’t reply, she adds, “Go on, pack your things. I’ll wait here.”

♠

Somehow, despite all the fighting and imminent injury in his life, Hux has never been in a hospital. As he and Padme walk through the hallways of the ICU, he finds there are too many things to look at, too many noises. A sterile smell and fluorescent lighting not unlike Carida. Employees in scrubs instead of military uniforms. An institution of healing instead of breaking. 

The drive with Padme had been silent. Her van reminded Hux of all the grocery store runs and late night stargazing he’d spent with Ben before the world separated them. He wonders what their life would be now if they’d managed to stay in Indiana, if they would have grown distant naturally. Maybe Ben would have gone to college after all. Maybe Hux would have found Toph anyway somehow.

Padme’s light footsteps stop in front of an open door. She turns to him and says, “Just know...he’s in bad shape.”

“Okay,” Hux says. To his ears he sounds like a child. At the moment he feels like one too, the same helpless blankness with which he navigated his mother’s death. 

Hux enters the room. His feet feel heavy underneath him, soles of his dress shoes clicking against the scuffed linoleum. He inches past the curtain to the steady high-pitched beat of a monitor, even though his own heart has stopped.

Ben.

Were it not for the waves of long black hair, Hux wouldn’t recognize him. A bandage covers most of his face, a slant from one side of his chin to the other side of his forehead. Tubes and wires are connected to him and tangled into various machines. His lips are the color of the rest of him: ashen pale, the shade of snow at the side of the road in late winter.

Hux's knees threaten to give out and he slumps into a chair beside Ben’s bed. Padme gently touches his shoulder to steady him. Out of all the times it would be appropriate to cry, he thinks, it would be now. 

“What happened,” Hux says, flat.

“We don’t know,” Padme replies. She speaks quietly, like she used to on Sunday mornings when Ben’s parents were gone and Ben hadn’t woken yet. Hux would sit with her on the porch and they’d talk while she drank her coffee. “The police found him like this. The boy he hung out with a lot, Leon, he’s missing. They think Ben was involved, but Leia won’t tell me much. Just that he’s fallen in with the wrong crowd.”

Hux’s only response is a vague pang of resentment—if he’d just been allowed in Ben’s life, none of this would have happened. Hux wouldn’t have let it happen.

“You should try to talk to him,” Padme says. Silence but for the steady beeping. The thrum of a busy ICU outside the door. She leaves after a minute. The gaping emptiness in her wake makes the situation more real than Hux can handle.

A dry-erase board is hanging on the wall opposite Ben’s bed, covered in shorthand. A television is propped in the corner. Venetian blinds are closed over a window and swaying gently over a heating vent. 

Hux takes Ben’s hand, careful not to disturb the IV. His skin is clammy, slightly colder than he usually runs. 

“What happened?” Hux asks, unable to look at anything but his thumb running over Ben’s knuckles. A better question: “What did you do?”

A flicker of a second, Hux expects a response. Maybe,  _ It’s really not a big deal _ . Or,  _ Don’t worry about it, I’ll handle it _ . Or even,  _ Let’s get the fuck out of here. _

Silence. 

“Wake up, Ben,” Hux whispers. “Please.”

♠

Hux bolts upright at the sound of rustling in the room, instinctively tightening his grip on Ben’s hand. Mr. Solo is leaning against the wall opposite him, arms across his chest. He looks like he’s aged nearly a decade, and Hux wonders how much trouble Ben has actually been getting in, how much he hid from Hux. Suddenly the idea of fooling around with another boy doesn’t seem as big of a deal as Hux was making it out to be.

Hux straightens his posture, like how he has to sit in class. “Padme brought me,” he explains.

“I know,” Mr. Solo says.

Hux can’t read his expression at all—it could be anything from disdain to exhaustion. Maybe all of the above.

“Look,” Mr. Solo continues, “I’m just going to get this out of the way.” He repositions himself and puts his hands in his pockets. Glances out the window and adopts a look of exasperated flippancy that Hux has seen too often on Ben. “I’m sorry. We’re all sorry.”

Hux didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but it wasn’t that. “What?”

“We thought we were doing the right thing.” He won’t look at Hux at all, just continues staring out the window like there’s something more out there than the brick wall of the opposite wing of the hospital. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you were a bad kid. Ben was always sneaking around to see you. He never shut up about you. You started that, I don’t know, quarter thing. Your mom—” He stops himself and thinks better of it. “You grew up in a rough environment.” 

“That wasn’t my fault.”

“I know, kid. Believe me, I know. It’s more about the way Ben reacts to you than...you know. You.” 

Hux wishes he didn’t understand. He wishes he could be angry. He wishes he had the strength to scream. 

“We were wrong,” Mr. Solo continues. “If we could take it all back, we would.”

You can’t, Hux thinks. They’ve ruined him. Instead, he asks, “What happens now?”

“Either Ben wakes up, or he doesn’t.”

“And then what?”

“I never think that far ahead.”

♠

Days pass. Hux and Padme share a hotel room next door to the hospital. She buys his food. They don’t talk much. Hux stays at Ben’s bedside from the moment visiting hours begin to the moment they end. 

Ben’s condition is looking better, the doctors say one day. And the next, worse. Better, worse, worse, better, worse, worse. He might not make it at all. His wounds are too severe, they say. Hux gets the courage to look at Ben’s chart, gets sick by what he sees. Lacerations to the body and face. A gunshot wound to the ribs. Countless bodily contusions. A single person couldn’t have done it, Hux thinks. It had to have been a gang. No one else would be able to get a jump on Ben like this.

He envisions all the scenarios that could have led to this, but they become too gruesome, and he forces himself to stop. When they’re alone, Hux talks to him, idly shuffles his deck of cards. He goes over the entire history of the United States military. He explains every chess strategy in alphabetic order by name. He tells Ben stories of their childhood as if he hadn’t been there, in case he can dream about them.

Nearly a week later, Hux settles in for another day of waiting. He brought the Bible from the hotel room bedstand so he can read it aloud, even though neither of them have ever been particularly religious. Hux is about to open it to a random page when he notices Ben’s hospital gown has shifted. A blip of hope, until Hux realizes it was probably just the orderlies moving him around.

A portion of Ben’s upper arm is exposed, and Hux catches a glimpse of black. He glances toward the open door before gently pushing his sleeve up further. A tattoo is drawn down the length of his inner arm—a sword, maybe. Black hilt with a red blade. The lines waver as if drawn with a shaking hand. The hasty sloppiness of it gives a kind of neon glowing effect. 

“Ben,” Hux says, “what have you gotten yourself into?”


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's winter break now so cross your fingers that I finish this up before the semester starts up next month.

Two days later, Ben flatlines and needs resuscitated. Hux has the misfortune of being in the room, of jerking awake at the single long beep of the heart monitor, followed by the quick march of rubber-soled shoes rushing in the room. Voices shout at Hux to get out of the way. Ben is rolled out before Hux can react. 

It’s the only time he sees Ms. Organa, who sits beside him in the waiting area, as stoic and serene as she always is. 

“Is he going to die?” Hux asks her.

She doesn’t look at him. “He better not.”

In his hotel room, after Ben has stabilized and Padme told Hux to get some rest, he sits on his bed. The clock reads after eight. It’s a Thursday, he thinks. Snow falls in clumps outside and sticks to the frozen ground. He hasn’t checked the news recently, but last he saw, Leon is still missing.

Hux opens the bedside table drawer and finds the white pages. He flips to the bar section, props the receiver on his shoulder, and holds his finger under a phone number as he dials. A voice he doesn’t recognize greets him. The music isn’t as loud as he’d been expecting—open mic night, maybe. Comedians and acoustic musicians only. 

“Christopher Crews, please,” Hux says.

He waits about a minute, before Toph comes on the line and asks, “Hello?”

“Hey.”

“Hux? Holy shit, are you okay? When Phasma came to get you last week, they said your dad had taken you.”

“I’m fine.” He swallows the lump in his throat, but the geometric pattern of the carpeting starts to warp behind his tears. 

“You don’t sound fine.”

Hux takes in a shuddered breath that sounds too close to a sob. He covers his mouth with his hand to keep it from happening again.

“Babe,” Toph says, quieter, “tell me what’s wrong. Please?”

“It’s Ben,” Hux manages.

“Oh.”

“He—” An actual sob. He doesn’t want to admit it, he can’t—“He’s dying.”

“Oh. Oh my god. How? What happened?”

Hux falls to his side, buries his face in the pillow so Toph doesn’t have to hear him cry. Far away, Toph says, “Hux, it’s okay. It’ll be okay—”

It goes on like this for a while, until Hux finally calms down. Toph asks, “Where are you? Can I come meet you? Can I help?”

“No,” Hux says. He wipes his nose with the back of his hand.

“Can I—”

“I should go now.”

“Babe—”

“Sorry. I mean, thanks. I just wanted to let you know where I was. I’ll call you later.” Hux hangs up before Toph can protest again. He stares at the phone on its cradle; the silence in the room is stifling, a weight bearing down on his chest. Toph deserves so much better than what Hux can offer. 

He contemplates for the first time the reality that Ben may actually die soon. Any minute, really. He feels his breath rise and fall, the slow movement of his heart against his ribs, and he feels...relief.

If Ben dies, Hux wouldn’t have to stick around much longer.

♠

Hux has given up reading the Bible. He’s given up speaking. He stops holding Ben’s hand. All he can do is sit by Ben’s side and stare at nothing at all for hours on end. The nurses come and go. Various members of Ben’s family who have developed a begrudging tolerance of Hux’s unwavering presence.

Mid-afternoon. It’s been about a week since Hux first arrived. Today is a mediocre day in doctor syntax—Ben is doing just okay according to the lack of both smiles and frowns. 

Once, when Hux was nine, he got mad at Ben for not telling him about a little league game, and he had waited at the quarry until it got dark. His mom was upset with him when he finally got home, but after she went to bed, Ben climbed in Hux’s window like nothing was wrong at all. 

“What’s the matter?” Ben asked.

“You ditched me,” Hux muttered.

“No I didn’t. I had a game.” 

“You didn’t tell me about the game.”

“Yes I did, I know I did.” 

As it turned out, Ben  _ did _ tell Hux about the game, but Hux had just gotten a new magic trick book from the library and hadn’t been paying attention. At the time, he refused to admit it. He ignored Ben for three whole days. By the third day, Ben was nearly crying for Hux to please stop being mad, he’d promise to tell Hux about all his games in the future, it was all his fault, he was so, so sorry. 

Now, Ben has been suffering while Hux was too busy with Toph, too busy leading the Carida candy mafia, too busy focused on the future to pay any attention to the present. And because of his neglect, Ben is going to die. All Hux can do is pretend to ignore him, and hope somewhere in his brain, Ben is reaching out—to apologize, maybe, to make this separation right, even if it’s Hux’s fault.

It works. 

♠

Early morning. Hux enters the ICU the minute visiting hours begin, Padme still asleep in their hotel room and Ben’s parents who-knows-where. He sits down beside Ben’s bed and immediately falls back asleep.

A voice—hoarse, quiet—wakes him: “I killed him.”

Hux blinks his eyes open, convinced he’s still dreaming. Ben is staring at the ceiling without really seeing. His Adam’s apple bobs against the cannula tucked under his throat, and he still has an unnerving pallor to his features. 

“What?” Hux asks, leaning forward. He’s dreaming. It has to be a dream. 

“Leon.” Ben slowly rolls his head toward Hux. When their eyes meet, Ben’s are glassy and flat, nothing like the wild glare they used to hold. 

Hux takes his hand. “You killed Leon?”

Ben feebly grips it back. He nods once, and winces. The glassiness of his eyes turn to wetness that trails down the bridge of his nose. He has an expression now, at least, even if it’s one of pain. His chin trembles.

“Okay.” Hux takes a breath. Not dreaming. This is happening, Ben is awake, Ben is—“Okay, I need to get a nurse, but—don’t tell anyone. Stay very quiet, answer their questions about how you’re feeling and nothing else. Can you do that?”

Ben’s eyes close and he squeezes Hux’s hand tighter. “Do you still love me?”

As if it was even a question. “Yes, of course.” He leans in and kisses Ben’s un-bandaged temple gently. “There’s nothing you could ever do to make me stop loving you.”

♠

The next day passes in a flurry of chaos. Ben’s heath rapidly improves, and he moves to another wing of the hospital for observation. At this rate, the doctors say, he’ll be able to go home in a few days.

The bandages get unwrapped and Hux finally gets to see what’s underneath: a large, shining slash mark, from Ben’s chin, over his nose, and across his brow. It missed his eye by about an inch. They say it will scar, as well as the bullet wound in his stomach, but otherwise it’s a miracle he’s alive.

Police arrive for questioning. Mr. Solo tells Ben not to talk to them until their lawyer arrives, but Ben tells him, with complete earnestness, “I didn’t do anything wrong.” In the next breath, he looks at the cops and says, “I don’t remember what happened.”

“Nothing at all?” one cop asks.

“Nothing.”

The questions continue. Where was he going that night? He was on a walk with his math tutor Leon, who was nice enough to continue teaching him even though he’d graduated high school already. They got jumped, he guesses. 

Leon is missing, the cops inform Ben. Ben pretends to be upset. “Oh my god,” Ben tells them. “He’s alive, right?”

The cops say they don’t know. Ben starts crying, and they leave him alone for a while.

They come back later and ask who might have done this, and Ben says he has no idea. Hux is astounded by his performance. Son of a Senator. Star baseball player. Decent grades, except for math. One fight on his record, in posterity a virtuous performance in defense of his queerness; the boys he beat up later got expelled. The kid is a saint, Hux imagines the cops think. They thank Ben for his time and leave once more, this time for good. 

The new wing of the hospital has more relaxed visitation hours. Padme drags Mr. Solo and Rey out of Ben’s room to grab something to eat. The schedule on the dry erase board tells them they have nearly an hour until the nurse comes back to take Ben’s vitals.

So Ben—with a wince—slides over on his bed, leaving a gap just wide enough for Hux to lie beside him. He climbs onto the bed and settles on his side, mirror positions like they used to sleep. They’re only touching in a few places, legs and hands, because Hux doesn’t want to touch the wrong spot and hurt him, but they’re still close enough that Hux has to cross his eyes. 

Even though it seems stupid and trite, he says, “I thought you broke up with me.”

“What?” Ben looks almost offended.

“When you stopped coming to the gas station. When no one was answering their phones. When you didn’t write. I thought it meant you didn’t love me anymore.”

“I stopped contacting you  _ because _ I love you.”

“What does that mean?”

“I can’t tell you right now. But being here—just knowing me—it puts you at risk. I got on the wrong side of some bad people.”

“Who? How?”

Ben isn’t even on pain meds anymore. It feels unreal, that he could have gotten so much better so quickly. He speaks easily, like he always has: “I switched teams. Started working for another guy in the business. This guy—he’s amazing. Offered more money. Spoke to me like I mattered. But Leon’s people didn’t like it. Sent him after me. And I…” Ben trails off, gets that far-away stare from before.

Hux concludes, “Defended yourself.”

Ben closes his eyes. “I had to. It was the only way to get him to stop.”

“We have to figure out what to do.”

“No we don’t.”

“What?”

“The guy I work for now is taking care of it. I need to get out of here, though.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Hux says. “You can barely walk.”

“Leon is one thing, but the dudes he works for? They’ll torch the whole hospital. I’m telling you, being around me is a bad idea.”

“It doesn’t matter. Wherever you go, I’m coming with you.”

“No, Hux. Finish school. When you’re out, I’ll come back for you.”

Hux can’t believe what he’s hearing. “You’re suggesting we spend almost two years apart.”

“In comparison to our entire lives.”

“I can’t go along with this, Ben. You can’t ask me to.”

Ben closes his eyes and rolls his head back in exasperation. “I knew you wouldn’t understand.”

“I barely know anything about what’s going on. How can I possibly understand?”

“Well, I thought you’d at least trust me.”

“It sounds like you’ve joined a cult.”

“It’s not a cult.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s a...I don’t know. It’s just something else.”

“Magic?” Hux asks. He means it sarcastically, but Ben’s eyes shoot open and he stares at Hux with a manic glare he hasn’t seen in years.

“Yeah. When I’m around this guy it’s like—it’s like I can finally see the strings. It’s like I’m powerful.”

“Why do you need to be powerful?”

Ben gives him a deadpan look. “I’m tired of the world keeping us apart. If I were stronger…” he trails off, reaching out and trailing over Hux’s cheekbone with his fingertip. 

“I’m still seeing Toph,” Hux blurts resentfully. He wants to be happy Ben is awake, but he’s angry that he plans to leave again so soon, that he’s going to leave Hux alone for two years. That he got himself into this situation in the first place.

Ben lets it sink in. His face goes blank and hard, and he says, “That makes sense. So you two are—”

“No,” Hux clarifies quickly. “I mean, I don’t know. We—I’m still just using him, I think. A replacement for you.” A silence passes between them. “Are you upset?”

“I’m not happy about it, but I guess I couldn’t expect you to wait forever.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Are you?”

Hux thinks back to all the fun he’s had with Toph over these last few months, how he’s felt really and truly alive for the first time in years, instead of hiding under the dreadful shadow that follows he and Ben around. 

Still, he says, “Yes.”

“Do you love him?”

Morning kisses. Midday laughter. Late night conversations that open Hux’s mind and make him see the world in new ways. “No.”

“Does he love you?”

“Yes.” He is certain, but it pains him to admit it. It all seems so unfair.

“The way I love you?” Ben asks.

Hux presses forward and places a soft kiss on Ben’s lips. Ben kisses him back, fragile and pained. When Hux pulls away, he says, “I don’t think anyone could love me the way you do. And if they could, I wouldn’t want them to.”

♠

The next day, Ben is gone.


	27. Chapter 27

After the cops drill Hux on the whereabouts of Ben—he doesn’t know, he tells them; he doesn’t know—he goes back to Carida. For once he’s thankful for Mitaka’s assistance in keeping everyone off his back. They all want to know where he went for so long, if it has anything to do with his girlfriend. No hickeys, they whisper. Must have broken up.

Days later, the police find two bodies. The first is Leon, at the bottom of the Potomac. The second, a mile away, is Ben’s. 

A funeral is planned for the coming weekend, according to Ben’s obituary. They call it “an accident.” Hux is mentioned nowhere in the short article, not that he expected to be. Closed casket, because Ben’s body was too mangled to be identified by anything other than dental records. 

Hux doesn’t want to believe it, so he doesn’t. The string is still there, pulling at him, guiding him forward, making him eat and sleep and do his homework. If Ben were really dead, the string would have snapped, and Hux along with it. 

But part of him, the darkest part, urges him to go. To say goodbye. Just in case. Just for now.

He folds up the obituary and puts it in his pocket. Ignores the feeling of being watched—it’s normal now, being the center of attention, the source of too many ridiculous rumors. He gathers a couple spare uniform shirts. Stuffs them in his backpack along with a couple other possessions and some cash he’d set aside from the occasional hustle. Waits until most of his company is busy at lunch in the mess and then escapes toward the fence. 

The watched feeling doesn’t go away as he ducks through, hops the ditch, and crosses the street. It gets stronger with every step he takes, but he ignores it. He has a funeral to go to, and no evidence that the creeping feeling up his spine is anything worth turning around for.

He reaches the gas station and starts grasping in his pockets for a quarter. Before he can make it to the payphone, he meets the cold, complacent gaze of Admiral Tarkin. Beside him is Cohen, and beside Cohen is Schmidt. Cohen has a folded newspaper tucked under his arm and a lopsided grin on his scarred face. Schmidt can’t meet Hux’s gaze, looks around and fidgets too much, like this ploy wasn’t his idea.

“Cadet O’Connell,” Tarkin says.

“Yes, sir,” Hux replies. He can’t run. There’s no use hiding, or excusing his actions. He was caught openly and obviously.

Cohen holds up the newspaper. It’s been folded so that Ben’s obituary is facing the front. “Got a funeral to go to?” he asks, snapping a piece of gum in his gaping maw.

Hux shouldn’t have cut the obituary out, he realizes now. It gave him away. Cohen has probably been tailing him for months trying to find dirt on him. Packing food away, dragging his backpack across the football field—it would have only taken a moment to pull Tarkin out of his office to tip off that Hux was breaking out.

“I do,” Hux admits. “My—”  _ Ex-boyfriend _ almost escapes him, but he stops himself short and adds, “best friend passed away. I wanted to offer his family my condolences.”

“We have a process for that,” Tarkin says—stern, not unkind. “You could have been excused.”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that.” 

“Well,” Tarkin begins. “Until your father excuses your absence to attend this...funeral, I’m afraid we’ll have to head back to campus.”

“Yes, sir,” Hux says. 

When Cohen starts cackling, Schmidt kicks him and says, “Dude, shut up.”

♠

The coolness with which Tarkin informs Hux that he’ll be relocating to some place called the Solitary Housing Units makes Hux believe it’s a kind of sympathetic gift. Some time away from the stress of his life. He doesn’t know how Tarkin does it. It’s only when a security guard walks him down the hill that he realizes the Solitary Housing Unit is the Dungeon. 

He panics, glances around looking for some kind of out. It’s useless—the guard has a strong hand on his upper arm and a pair of Walkman headphones over his ears blaring what sounds like Billy Joel. He looks back toward the resident hall, all the way up the hill, and sees the familiar silhouette of Mitaka staring after him. He’s too far away to shout, and even if he weren’t, he doesn’t know what he would say. Mitaka watches Hux march to his fate, then turns and walks away. 

Hux is alone.

♠

Prison. The dungeon is a trailer, like the property a block down from where his father used to live, steel siding atop a block of cement. There are three of them, each one sectioned off into two parts. They don’t have internal plumbing—there’s an outhouse behind the third unit. They don’t even appear to run on electricity, just some kind of generator that makes a horrific grating noise every few seconds. Hux is introduced to a fat man with brown spittle sliding down his jowls as he sucks on his chewing tobacco. His name is Jabba and he speaks in single grunts followed by wheezing laughter.

Jabba lives in the first unit. The walls are plastered with yellowed posters of naked women. He sleeps on a cot covered in stains, and he makes Hux sign in on a tattered piece of paper. The name above his own is Schmidt’s, in shaky, childish handwriting, that says he checked in the day Hux busted him for drugs. On the line next to it, in even shakier handwriting, he signs for his release two weeks later.

Two weeks. “Ben” will be buried by then. If Ben or Phasma or Padme were to come for him, or call him, or write to him, he wouldn’t be able to receive them. 

“Yer in room five,” Jabba says with a laugh rattling with the phlegm in his throat. He waddles over to the third unit and opens the door. Hux enters. The cement floor is bare and stained with something unidentifiable but Hux has a sinking feeling is blood. The walls aren’t insulated, and the room is only a few degrees warmer inside than it is out. A radiator in the corner patters out meager heat, and a cot rests in the corner, a bucket in the opposite. There are no windows. 

Jabba shoves him inside and locks the door. Hux spins around and pounds his fist against it. “Wait!” he shouts. He doesn’t know when he’ll be released, when he’ll be fed, when he’ll shower or change clothes. What he’ll do with his time. If he’ll freeze. This has to be illegal, he thinks. There’s no way they could get away with this. 

Jabba doesn’t return. Hux pounds on the door and yells for several more minutes. He imagines Schmidt like this, scared and confused and angry. As Hux’s fist begins to hurt, arm sore, he starts to wonder if maybe he deserves being here. If he deserved to lose Ben. If he’ll one day deserve to lose Toph. 

He gives up. Heaving, he leans against the wall and slides down it, until his knees touch his chin. Silence surrounds him, stifles him. All he can hear is his own labored breathing. Alone. Truly, completely alone for the first time since he was a child and his mother abandoned him to go to work each day. 

There is no Ben to climb through his window and keep him company, or drag him out to spend the day outside, hold his hand and kiss him. No Mitaka to follow him around and yammer vapid nonsense about school gossip. No hundreds of students in the halls, whispering as he passes. No Toph to make some clever, crass remark thinly veiled as a compliment. No mother. No father. No one.

“Ben is dead,” he says into the silence. He lets the words sink into him. Ben is dead. Then louder: “Ben is dead.” Over and over, until the words lose all meaning and tumble into broken sobs. Ben is dead. He weeps until his temples throb and his knuckles ache from gripping his own hair. Ben is dead. He screams and shrieks and cries, pounds the cement until his fists come back bloody. Ben is dead. Hux will miss his funeral. Ben is dead. They will never again kiss, or laugh, or hold one another. Ben is dead. 

Ben is dead.

♠

Hux wakes up to a rattling sound. At first he dismisses it as his teeth chattering from the cold. He’s shivering, curled up on the floor in his coat, not remembering having fallen asleep. He can’t feel his nose and his face is caked with dried saline. 

The rattling continues, louder now, and in the pitch black Hux can’t manage to orient himself to its direction. A thump, a squeal, and then a long shaft of moonlight filters in through the opening door. A waify silhouette steps inside it. 

“Mitaka?” Hux asks. His voice is hoarse; he sounds small.

“Hux?”

It _is_ Mitaka. Hux sighs in relief. Mitaka holds out his hand to him and Hux takes it. He stands, and Mitaka flips something in his palm—a flash of metal gleams in the moonlight, and the familiar wooden handle of Hux’s butterfly knife falls into his palm. Mitaka must have used it to jerry the door open.

“It’s just a regular doorknob,” Mitaka explains. “I thought this place would be scarier. Or at least more secure.”

“I think the point is the psychological trauma,” Hux says. The room feels so much smaller when two people are inside it. 

“Christ.”

Hux just now notices how much bigger Mitaka has gotten from when they’d first met. He’s only a couple inches shorter than Hux now, the same height if you count how high his hair stands on end on the days he doesn’t slick it down. His voice is deeper, too. He’s handsome, confident. Hux wonders how it happened, and how it seemed to slip his notice until now. 

“C’mon, I hear Jabba is a light sleeper,” Mitaka whispers. They sneak out of the room. Hux closes the door gently behind him and feels a blip of concern for how much trouble he’ll get into escaping the hardest punishment in the academy. 

“What do you think happens if we get caught?” Hux asks while they climb the hill, out of earshot of the Dungeon. They dodge the sensors at the sides of the building by sticking to the forest line. 

“Worst case scenario is expulsion.” Instead of turning toward campus, Mitaka ducks into the trees. “And that seems more like a reward to me.”

Hux realizes they’re headed to the fence line behind the football field. Mitaka stops by the big tree—the one under which Hux had sat next to Toph after meeting with Ben—and picks up Hux’s backpack. He must have stolen it from Tarkin’s office. He hands it to Hux and says, “Well, good luck.”

Hux takes it, shoulders it. “I’ll be back after the funeral.”

Mitaka nods and says, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Hux almost tells him about the drugs and the mysterious man Ben insisted would protect him. About the strings. But instead he says, “Thank you for this,” and gives Mitaka a hug that lingers a few seconds. Then he climbs over a fallen log toward the fence.

♠

Hux takes the bus to DC. Rents a cheap motel room by the funeral home. Doesn’t sleep.

He makes it to the funeral early the next day, dressed in his uniform which he’d ironed in his motel room at dawn. He’d parted his hair, brushed his teeth, shaved. Shined his shoes, the buttons of his jacket. Walks into the funeral parlor and takes off his hat, tucks it under his arm. 

No one has arrived yet. Hux sits in the front row, back straight against the cold metal folding chair, off to the side of Ben’s most recent school photo propped on an easel. Ben is smiling in it, but falsely, the smile he used to give to his parents when he was trying not to fly off the handle. It looks more like a grimace to Hux. Hux keeps his eyes straight ahead, toward the pink floral wallpaper and dusty organ, and ignores the shiny wooden casket feet away.

♠

Later, as people begin to trickle in, Padme takes a seat next to him. She has a tissue balled up in her shaking hand. Without a word, she takes Hux’s hand from his lap and holds it. No one speaks to them. Hux watches as people he used to know give their condolences, one by one laying a white rose on Ben’s casket. Finn and Poe are flanking Rey, who holds the exact same expression of disdain as always, but now she looks older and her face ashen with hidden grief. 

Finn meets Hux’s eyes and gives him a little nod. Hux returns it.

More people. Mr. Kenobi, who smiles at Hux and Padme and takes a seat on Padme’s other side. Ben’s old baseball coach. 

Ben’s parents sit a few seats down. They aren’t crying, but their hands are tightly clasped to one another in the most overt display of affection Hux has ever seen in them. 

Hux doesn’t recognize most of them. Students from Ben’s new school, he thinks. A group of them—six, he counts—meander awkwardly to the casket, glance at it briefly, and make their way to the snack table. After watching them for several moments, Hux determines they’re too old to be high school students. There are four boys and two girls. A couple of them have facial piercings and hairdos like Hux sees at Rebellion. Leather and lipstick. 

One of them, a larger boy wearing nylon phat pants that swish and rattle as he walks, has the sleeves of tattered hoodie pushed up, and Hux glimpses a tattoo on his forearm. It’s not red like Ben’s was, but a pattern of squares—

A pastor comes up to the podium. The six out-of-place people take seats all the way in the back. The pastor makes a little speech that Hux doesn’t listen to. Padme squeezes Hux’s hand tighter and Hux holds hers in both of his own. It’s all very touching.

Hux can’t feel anything at all.

At the end, when people are mingling and filing out, Padme doesn’t let go of Hux’s hand. She waits for Mr. Kenobi to get up and greet people on her behalf, and, without looking at Hux, asks, “Did you feel it?”

“What?”

“When he died. Did you feel it happen?”

Hux doesn’t know what to make of the question, so Padme continues, “When Anakin died, I felt it. I felt like something had been wrenched out of my body.”

“Did you feel that when Ben died?” Hux asks.

Padme finally looks at him. “I wouldn’t be the one to feel it. It would be you.”

Hux hesitates. Swallows, breath floating in his throat. Wavering, he answers, “I didn’t feel it.”

A long moment passes. The people around them start to wander away. 

“He isn’t really dead, is he?” Padme whispers.

Hux can’t bring himself to answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of part 2!


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the final act! I'm sorry the delay on this was so long. I've been working on a lot of original stuff and school things. Thanks to all who are still reading!

_When he shall die,_   
_Take him and cut him out in little stars,_   
_And he will make the face of heaven so fine_   
_That all the world will be in love with night_   
_And pay no worship to the garish sun._

—William Shakespeare,  _Romeo and Juliet_

♠

* * *

  **PART THREE**

Hux rolls over in bed, half-asleep, and puts his arm over Ben’s stomach. Drags him closer. Kisses the knobby vertebrae on the back of his neck and breathes deep the smell of his hair. He shifts his hips, morning erection pressed at the small of his back, seeking friction and slow satisfaction. These are Hux’s favorite moments anymore, before he opens his eyes. Before he opens his mind to the reality of daylight.

Ben’s breathing turns shallow and rolls into a rasped laugh. He takes Hux’s hand and brings it to his lips, and mutters against them, “Love you, babe.”

Hux holds his breath for two beats and lets it out in a heavy sigh. He extracts himself from Toph’s embrace and gets out of bed to take a shower.

♠

The first time Toph said he loved Hux was heartfelt and sweet, someone else’s romance. Hux didn’t know how to reply, so—for the first time, and imagining Ben—he fucked Toph instead. They continued this pattern until, six months later, with the aid of Toph’s gentle insistence and four shots of tequila, Hux uttered it back. It feels less like a lie the more he says it.

The first time Hux won a fair fight was in gym class, pitted against a boy named Goldberg who fought fast and sometimes dirty. While Hux did neither, he’d watched Goldberg’s prior fights and knew he favored his right side over his left, so Hux took him out by kicking his right foot out from under him and grappling him into a tap-out. After that, after Hux had evidence he was more than a useless runt, winning fights became standard.

The first time Hux felt really, genuinely proud of himself, he crossed the stage of his military academy graduation. He pretended his mother and Ben were in the audience, but knew no one was there to watch him walk. Later, after the ceremony, Padme approached him with tears in her eyes and congratulated him. Surprised, he thanked her for attending, and out of the corner of his eye, at the top of the bleachers, he saw a tall, black-clad figure leaping off the back of them to the pavement below. He convinced himself it was a trick of the light.

The first time Hux realized he was finally on his own, he went straight to Toph. With twenty dollars to his name, his very last pack of cigarettes, and his sentimental handful of possessions, he caught a bus to Baltimore and showed up on Toph’s doorstep. Toph welcomed him happily, with kisses and wild hand gestures and showing him where he could keep all his things in their tiny apartment. They marched downstairs and Hux got a job bussing tables at Rebellion five nights a week. Toph took him shopping at a thrift store to buy non-uniform clothes that actually fit. To Toph’s horror, Hux picked out plain t-shirts and jeans.

The first time Hux told himself that Ben wasn’t coming back for him was about a year later, in bed with Toph, mostly content with the way his life had turned out. He could feel his younger self’s heart break, but he never felt the string snap. Instead he learned to ignore the taut aching pull of it entirely.

♠

Hux is twenty-one. Toph still wears his retainer to bed and refuses to kiss Hux in the morning until he's had his coffee and brushed his teeth, but then the kisses never stop. He gets eczema in winter and eaten alive by mosquitos in summer and because of both of these things, he hates his skin. Sometimes he doesn't eat, stating he forgets, but he never forgets to clean out his pipe at the end of the night. He gets high too often and stays up late writing poetry that he sometimes wakes Hux up to read. He once wrote a novel, and though Hux enjoyed it, he secretly thought it was too blatantly derivative of Faulkner for publication.

The worst thing about Toph is his boredom, which manifests itself in manic obsessions. He drags Hux to swing dance lessons and bowling and ceramics studios. He gets invested just long enough to gain an expertise, which is always very quickly, and then drops it immediately. The first and only time he bowled a perfect score, he threw his shoes in a fit of drunken rage down the lane and got banned from the bowling alley, hauled out while screaming, “What's the point of a game with a perfect score?”

Sometimes Toph’s obsessions are profitable in a number of ways, like pole dancing. He managed to persuade the bar owner Georg into installing a pole on stage, which ended up, for structural reasons, leading into their bedroom. Not only does Toph get to add pole dancing to his routine, which always earns him a shocking amount of money, he also employs it frequently prior to sex, and Hux has absolutely no complaints about that.

Hux often reminds him that he might find more fulfillment in being intellectually challenged, like in college. The conversation goes like this:

“Why not college?” Hux asks.

“I'm too old,” Toph says.

“You're only twenty-three.”

“I'm too smart. It wouldn't be fair to the other students.”

“I doubt that.”

“I don't know what I would major in. I'm good at too many things. What could possibly hold my attention that long?”

“So take some general electives and pick out what feels right.”

“We can't afford it.”

“I'll work doubles for a while.”

“You'd do that for me?”

“I'd do anything for you.”

“I'll think about it.”

He never does.

Hux is perfectly happy with the little life he’s built. Except when he’s not.

Like now, in a hardware store, picking out paint swatches for the living room. Toph is holding up two little pieces of cardstock, one of which has a series of mauves on it and the other forest greens. Hux hates both of them, and is fond of the bland beige that currently coats their walls. The last time Toph tried to do a renovation on their apartment, he attempted to create a tile mosaic as a splash guard over the stove using broken plates from Rebellion’s kitchen. He worked on it for three days straight and then forgot all about it because he’d gotten what he called “a plot bunny” for another novel, of which he pounded out twenty pages on his typewriter over the next two days, only to give up on it when he realized this time he had been too derivative of Hemingway. He only picked up interest again in the mosaic when Hux got tired of the mess and started finishing it on his own, to which Toph insisted he was doing all wrong and he didn’t have an artistic bone in his body.

“Should we go lighter or darker?” Toph asks, his thumb over the second-from-the-top mauve rectangle.

Hux flips a mental quarter in his head and says, “Lighter.” He looks at his watch—the most expensive thing he owns, a three-year anniversary gift from Toph.

“Really?” Toph tilts his head. He wears his hair long these days, black waves tucked behind his ears or in a ponytail at the nape of his neck. Another one of those unsaid Ben things, Toph forever trying to perform to Hux’s happiness, even at the expense of his own preferences and the ease of which he puts on wigs for his shows.

“Absolutely,” Hux says. He checks his watch again, but this time Toph catches him.

“You got somewhere you need to be, gingersnap?” Toph asks with an arch of his perfectly plucked eyebrow. He only pulls the gingersnap card when Hux is being particularly anxious.

“No, darling,” Hux replies, who only pulls the darling card when he’s trying not to scream. Toph, for all his immense intellect, has never seemed to notice the pattern.

“It’s like you don’t even care. This is our _home_ , babe. Don’t you want it to look nice?”

“Yes. Absolutely. More than anything. The need to breathe is nothing compared to deciphering the painstaking dichotomy between—” Hux checks the color names on the swatch. “—Rosebud and Plum Dandy.”

“Your sarcasm is unwelcome in my heart,” Toph says, but the corner of his lip twitches in the way it does when he’s trying not to smile.

“I’m in your heart and I brought my sarcasm with me, so you’ll just have to deal with it.”

Toph glances around and, finding they’re alone, leans in and kisses him lightly on the lips. “I love you so much.”

“I—” Some days he just can’t say it. He clears his throat. “—think we should go with Rosebud.”

The playful glint in Toph’s eyes fades and he looks away. “Okay. We’ll get a gallon of it.”

They get home half an hour later. Hux deposits the paint and supplies in the living room and starts to head back out.

“Where are you going?” Toph asks, even though he knows.

“The rink.”

Toph lets out a melodramatic sigh. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Hux taps his pockets. Keys, wallet, watch.

“Cell phone?” Toph picks up the gaudy plastic Nokia brick from the kitchen counter. “It’s a dangerous world out there for boys like us, babe. You gotta start taking it with you.”

Hux takes it from his hand and kisses him in apology. “Sorry. I’ll get better at it, I promise.”

Hux rushes out the door, and Toph shouts behind him, “Have fun!”

He could take public transit, but he found a shortcut that’s faster and more dangerous. Instead of going downstairs, he opens the window in the hallway and climbs onto the fire exit. From there he goes up to the roof, where he crosses five buildings. The door to the last building is always open, some shady office space, so he goes inside, down two floors where there’s a tunnel that crosses the road and stretches into the next building. Up to that roof, across two more buildings, down one more fire escape, over a fence in the alley behind a Chinese food place, and he finally reaches the back door of Mos Eisley Rollerskating Rink and Cyber Cafe.

It’s too early for the evening crowd, so the lights are up all the way. A disco ball spins in the middle of the rink and red carpet spans the floor and walls of everything around it. Mos Eisley is a place permanently stuck in the seventies except for a drab back room with five dusty, barely working computers where you can purchase Internet by the hour while sitting on uncomfortable duct-taped bar stools.

“How you doing, slick?” Phasma asks from behind the bar. She bounces at Rebellion on Friday and Saturday nights but spends the rest of her time at Mos Eisley, where she’s either bartending or swirling around the rink using flying elbows to KO competing derby girls.

She knows that Hux’s behavior at the cyber cafe is shady at best and illegal at worst, but Hux’s favorite thing about Phasma is her capacity for neutrality. She and Toph may be kindred spirits, but she’s a goddamn iron trap when it comes to secrets.

“Good,” Hux says. He doesn’t have to ask for what he wants, so he holds out his hand and she drops a key into his palm, attached to a fake neon green rabbit’s foot.

“We’re closing up early tonight,” Phasma says. “Get your hetero jizzfest done early.”

Hux scoffs. “I’d rather die.”

Phasma cackles as he pockets the key and heads toward the lockers. He made a deal with the owner of Mos Eisley several years ago: computer maintenance in the cyber cafe in exchange for a permanent locker and free internet. What Hux hadn’t mentioned at the time was that the only thing he knew about computers was how to turn them on. The owner never called his bluff, so Hux spent the following months in the library, learning everything about computers.

He twists the combination into locker 227—a small cube, but more than enough to suit his needs. Inside rests his shoebox of photographs, camera, a deck of cards, Finn’s knife, and a three-ring binder. He also takes five percent of his nightly tip-out and stuffs it in an envelope hidden in the shoebox, which has added up to a few thousand dollars. He trusts Toph, probably more than he’s ever trusted anyone but Ben. But there was a deep sense of wrongness in keeping his most precious possessions in Toph’s apartment, so he hid them somewhere safe. Toph doesn’t know about the money, either. Or the binder.

Hux slides the binder out and locks the door again, then makes his way to the cyber cafe. It’s predictably empty. While he waits for the machine to boot up, he flips open the binder. The first page is Ben’s obituary, followed by every detail Hux could remember about the last conversation they had. Following that is all the information he knows about Leon, and thereafter is the research he’s been doing since. Threads of speculation weaving in an inconclusive, incoherent story. He’s currently searching underground fighting leagues, because a potential acquaintance of Leon’s recently died in a suspicious manner that looked like he had been pummeled to death by human fists.

On his good days, Hux thinks he’s getting close. On his darkest days, he sees that he’s nowhere closer to finding Ben than he was almost five years ago.

He signs online, and continues his search.


End file.
